


Back to Best

by itchyfingers



Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Healing, Romance, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-15 10:42:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 52,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/848588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itchyfingers/pseuds/itchyfingers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benedict Cumberbatch finally decides to move on, years after the love of his life left him for Tom Hiddleston.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [When I'm Gone](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/23506) by nething4perfection. 



_A sequel to[When I’m Gone](http://let-me-love-you-loki.tumblr.com/post/52159855131/when-im-gone-masterpost-prologue-chapter) by [nething4perfection](http://let-me-love-you-loki.tumblr.com/)._   _This sequel picks up right after the events in[When You Were Mine](http://let-me-love-you-loki.tumblr.com/post/50094569666/when-you-were-mine)._

Benedict needed out of London. He needed out of the rain, and the cold, and the gloom, and the holding pattern his life had been in for the last four years since Anthea, his Annie, had broken his heart and married Tom. Seeing them together like that three days ago had made him realize that she had never really loved him the way she loved Tom, and watching her large with child as she glowed with happiness made him realize she had made the right choice. Until then, he had always harbored the hope that she would realize that she had made a mistake and come back to him. But now, the kick of the baby still vibrating against his palm, that last particle of hope had shriveled and died.

Staring at the picture of the infant Tom had texted him, Ben spoke into his mobile, “I don’t care where, as long as it’s warm.”

“Mexico’s warm this time of year,” his assistant responded, thinking of the outrageously priced avocados she had purchased at the market yesterday.

“Fine. Book me a ticket to Mexico for tomorrow. I don’t want to stay at one of the fancy resorts though. I want backcountry and adrenaline highs. Cliff diving, not beach cabanas.”

“Right.” Emma jotted down a few notes. “How long do you want to go for?”

“As long as I can. What’s my schedule look like?”

She flipped through his calendar for a few seconds. “With a little poking and prodding, I can clear you for about a week and a half before you have to be back for rehearsals.”

“Do it. And I’m serious. I want to leave tomorrow.”

“Yes, Ben.” She fought the urge to salute, reminding herself it was just one more crazy task in keeping up with the world famous and increasingly misanthropic star. She’d been with him for years now and could trace the difference in his demeanor to the end of his relationship with Annie. He had become increasingly withdrawn, and his smile was seen less frequently as the years passed. “I’ll send your flight information to your phone as soon as I have it booked, and then send over a hardcopy of your entire itinerary once it is complete.” He still got nervous about having all his travel information only available electronically.

“Thank you.”

“And Ben?”

“Yes?”

Her voice was gentle. “If you find your old self out there, bring him back with you when you come home. We all miss him.”


	2. Chapter One

The wind blew through Ben’s curls as he drove through the jungle. He kept an eye out for the sign to the Grutas de Calcehtok, but just being out here in the sunlight and heat with the smell of damp soil and the humidity clinging to his skin like a lover’s touch was exhilarating. He could feel the tightness at the back of his skull relaxing in the sunlight when he spotted the sign. Three more kilometers to go. He watched someone on a motorcycle pull around him and back in front of his rented truck. He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to rent a truck rather than a car like usual. He felt like an American. The thought made him laugh. He’d been unrecognized when he checked in at the hotel. He wasn’t sure if it was that he was back to his natural ginger for the first time in years, or that his curls were back after several roles where his hair had been straight. Maybe it was just because he wasn’t nearly as big of a deal as he thought he was and there was an entire world out there that didn’t watch his every move. The thought was liberating.

The cyclist turned off the road ahead of him and he realized that he must be going to the caves as well. He followed the cyclist up the bumpy dirt road into the jungle and to a clearing where they both parked. He got out of his truck and saw the tour guide sitting on a stool by the entrance to the cave. He turned to the cyclist to offer a greeting and maybe a caution about the danger of driving that fast on roads this bad when he was surprised to see the rider pull off the helmet releasing a shock of hair the color of a summer sky that either faded to white or deepened to purple at the ends. It was like looking at a cloud dappled sky as the sun started to set. He realized he was staring and looked away. Shaking his head to get his thoughts together, he said, “Nice bike.” The truck must be rubbing off on him. He was speaking in an American accent.

She looked at him and smiled. “Do you ride?

“I have one back home. Wish I would have thought to bring it with me on vacation.”

“Unfortunately this beauty isn’t mine. I’m borrowing it from a friend in town.”

“You live here?”

“No, just on vacation. I’ve spent the last five years in Bolivia. One of the people I worked with there has family here, so I thought I would stop in and poke around another corner of the world before I head on to a new project.”

She opened one of the saddlebags on the bike and stowed her helmet and then stripped off the leather jacket she was wearing and tucked it in the bag as well.  He had to remind himself not to stare again as she faced him. The tee she was wearing was skin tight, hugging her curvaceous figure and leaving several inches of her belly bare before the waistband of her cargo pants that hit just below the knee.  Well-worn sports sandals were on her feet. Absolutely nothing about her reminded him of Annie. She was not his standard type, but maybe this was just what he needed – a little vacation fling to cleanse the palate. She walked up to him and closed his mouth with a well-placed finger under his chin. “You’re staring,” she whispered and then winked at him.

She strutted off in the direction of the tour guide and he admired the view for a moment before following after her.  A liquid gabble of Spanish fell from her mouth as she greeted the man, and then she turned and indicated Ben. “What do you say, güero? You up for the extreme adventure?”

“The more extreme the better.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him. It was dark and he realized that her natural hair color must be almost Sherlock brown. “Big words.”

“Don’t worry, I can back them up.” His voice exuded confidence, like aural testosterone.

She grinned. “We’ll see. Oh, and what’s your name? I need to know what to call when you get lost.”

He smiled in response to the challenge. “Timothy. But you can call me Tim.” In for an ounce, in for a pound, right? If he was going to play the American abroad, he might as well go at it full bore. No American is going to be named Benedict.

She wrinkled her nose. “I’ll stick with Timothy. Tim is a bit Monty Python for my taste.”

He chuckled. Culturally literate and sexy in a different sort of way than he was used to. It wasn’t that she had a six pack, but the few inches of stomach he had seen left him wanting to suck in his non-existent gut.

“And what’s your name?”

“Call me Wren.” She nodded towards the cave entrance. “Listo?”

They followed their guide, Luis, down a ladder into the cenote that formed the entrance to the cave complex.  The verdant growth above ground followed them into the cenote, like a little circle of the jungle dropped thirty feet into the ground. As they headed into the caves, the plants gave way to sand underfoot and strange rock formations overhead. Luis gave them head torches to put on as the sunlight faded and Ben wondered what exactly he was getting himself into as they headed further underground.  Within a few minutes, Luis stopped and pointed to a crevice in the ceiling of the chamber they were standing in. At first Ben thought he was pointing at the bats sleeping on the roof, but then he realized his head lamp was illuminating a small opening in the ceiling, and that he expected them to follow him through the crack.

“Mira! Watch!” Luis said, and climbed up the rough wall of the cave and into the opening. Ben and Wren watched as the small man pulled himself up into the crevice and then climbed upward, bracing himself on both sides of the crack. He disappeared into the darkness.

Wren smiled at him and then followed, crawling up the wall like a gecko. Ben stroked his lips thoughtfully as he watched her ascent. Taking a deep breath, he followed. The wall was cool and sandy to the touch as he climbed upward, his feet and hands seeking out the rough protrusions that formed natural holds. He squirmed up into the crevice and then braced himself, looking upward. His head torch illuminated the narrowing crevice and he could see Wren’s feet as she slithered the final way through it. Steeling himself, he crawled upward, his feet braced on one wall with his back on the other. He pushed upward, feeling the walls narrow around him, until he could feel the wall in front brush against his chest every time he inhaled. A sudden wave of panic washed over him, claustrophobic terror and the smell of petrol fumes and suddenly he was on the other side of the world in his head as his body fought its way out of this sedimentary birth canal. He surged forward, kicking with both feet for leverage and he pushed passed the choke point and took a deep gasping breath of the cool dank air.

Wren grabbed his hand and helped pull him the rest of the way out. In the bright light of her headlamp, she could see the residual fear in his eyes. “Luis said that’s the hardest part of the whole adventure.” Her voice was surprisingly gentle as she reassured him. Ben nodded. She handed him a bottle of water and he gratefully took a long swallow. He closed his eyes as he drank, shutting out the thoughts of being trapped in a small dark space again.

He handed the water back. “Thank you. I didn’t think to bring any of my own.”

She stashed the bottle back in the pocket of her pants. “Not very Boy Scout of you.”

“Uh, no.” He was about to say something about Harrow until he remembered he was supposed to be an American. “More of the prep school upbringing. “

“Well, it seems like you’re making up for lost time.”

He smiled. “I must admit that I’ve become a bit of an adrenaline junkie in my old age.”

“You can’t be that old.”

“Forty-one.”

She waved a hand at him dismissively. “You’re just hitting your prime. Forty is the new twenty-five.”

He laughed, and the deep sound echoed in the small chamber. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were flirting.”

“Maybe you don’t know better.”  Her generous lips curved into an enigmatic smile that left dimples in her full cheeks.

Before he could respond she turned to Luis. “Vamonos.”

Luis led off into the next leg of their journey. The next two hours were spent hiking, crawling on hands and knees and at a few points rappelling through the caves. It was amazing. They saw stalactites and stalagmites in all shapes and sizes, shards of Mayan pottery from when the caves were inhabited, more bats, including a flight of them overhead when their lights irritated them. He watched in amazement as Wren stood in the middle of the cave surrounded by swooping bats, the sound of their wings like distant thunder, with a huge smile on her face. “That was amazing!” She turned to him once the bats had left. “I’ve never seen anything like that!”

“So you’re fine with a flock of bats, but one little spider freaks you out.”

“That was not a  _little_  spider. It was the size of my face!”

“Methinks the lady doth exaggerate.”

“Okay, maybe my hand, but still.” She shuddered in revulsion. “Spiders freak me out.”

“I noticed.”

“You be nice to me or I won’t give you any more of my water.”

Ben wondered how much of an ass he was for admiring her ass as she crept through the narrow passage ahead of him. He could see the turquoise waistband of her knickers over the edge of her trousers and he entertained himself by wondering what style they were. He couldn’t see any visible lines in the fabric pulled snug across the curve of her bum as she squatted to get through a particularly short section of the path. He had to get down on his hands and knees, adding another layer of mud to the ones he had already accumulated. He was filthy but having the time of his life.

He heard her gasp and wondered if she had found another spider but he realized it was that the crawlspace had opened into a huge cavern studded with crystals that glittered in the light from their headlamps. She walked a few steps into the cavern and then sank to the ground. He almost thought she had passed out until he saw the look on her face as she gazed around the cavern.

He sat next to her, wanting to see the room as she did. “It’s amazing the beauty that can exist buried in the earth.” Her voice was reverent as she looked around. “I never get over how unnecessarily beautiful the world is.” The cavern sparkled like a starry night. He flipped off his head torch and looked at her and the expression of awe on her face. He remembered when he had used to be able to look at the world around him that way, when he used to be able to just surrender to a moment and be happy. It had been so long that he had almost forgotten that part of himself existed, the part that could be effortlessly happy.

She turned to him, shoving her headlamp back so she wouldn’t blind him. “What are you looking at?”

He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes roaming over her face as if he was seeking some hidden secret. The silence grew in intensity as she calmly faced his scrutiny. Finally, he said, “You’ve got thome mud on your cheek.” He cursed himself mentally as his lisp showed up at the worst possible time but she didn’t laugh. He brushed at it with his thumb and just ending up smearing it further. He chuckled. “Um, I think I just made it worse.”

She grinned and rubbed her dirty hand across his cheek. “There, now we’re even.” He was just about to lean in to kiss her when she scrambled to her feet. Seemingly unaware of his intent, she walked to the far wall of the cavern, touching the crystals curiously.

Shaking his head in disappointment he pushed himself to his feet and turned back on his torch. He stared at the ceiling as he wondered how long it had been since he’d had a woman turn him down. He hadn’t pursued a woman since Annie, but had taken advantage of – and he cringed as he realized how true those words were –many offers of female companionship that had come along in the intervening years.  None of them had lasted more than two or on a rare occasion three nights. He realized he had become someone Annie wouldn’t have cared for, much less loved. God, he had become everything he hated about a celebrity – rude, entitled, selfish, and arrogant. The utmost professional on projects, of course, but his personal life had grown stale and rotted in a bizarre show of loyalty; tribute to his unfailing love for a woman that had brought him the utmost joy and the sharpest pain he had ever experienced. He scrubbed his hands against his pants as if he could exfoliate this part of himself with a little friction and elbow grease. He knew it was going to take more than that, though. Four years of atrophy was going to require more than a subterranean epiphany to reverse.

Luis beckoned to them and they followed him to a upwardly sloping passage. Knotted rope snaked along  the ground and he picked up the end of it and pointed and started to climb up the slope. Ben brought up the rear, enjoying the purely physical work of pull and climb and the flex of his muscles as he pulled himself out of the depths of the earth. The passage disgorged them back into the cenote and the sunlight. As they slowly climbed up the ladder taking them back to the surface, Ben deliberated asking Wren to dinner. Did he even remember how to do that anymore?

Luis offered them some water to clean off their hands with a strict command not to drink the water.  _Now or never, Benedict._ As they were walking back to their vehicles, he said, “Would you like to go to dinner tonight with me?”

A smile teased at the corner of her mouth as she looked up at him. “I actually am having dinner with my friend’s family tonight.”

“Oh.”

“You can come if you want. Mama always makes more than enough food.”

He shook his head. “I couldn’t intrude.”

“You don’t know much about the culture here, do you?”

“Not really, no.”

“Come with me. You can get a glimpse of real Mexico.”

He rubbed nervously at his throat. “If you’re sure it wouldn’t be an imposition.”

She grinned. “Pick me up at my hotel at seven?”

“Where are you staying?”

“Casa Lecanda.”

“Interesting.”  He grinned back at her, “So am I.”

 


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to randomsociopath for fixing my wonky spanish!

Ben knocked on Wren’s hotel room door. He was lurching back and forth between butterflies the size of armadillos in his stomach and arrogant confidence that this evening would end, like so many others, with a woman in his bed. Even if it wasn’t the one he was picking up right now.

She opened the door and smiled at him. “You clean up nicely.”

“Yes, it took a while to get all that mud off. Am I dressed appropriately?”

“You look very nice. Can’t go wrong with a white button down and jeans.”

“You look lovely.” Her long blue hair fell down across her bare shoulders. A top the color of raspberry sorbet tied around her neck, topping an ankle length skirt with wide diagonal stripes in all the colors of a desert sunset. “Very…colorful.”

She blinked owlishly. “Wow, you’re not very good at flirting are you?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly. “Honestly, it’s been a while.”

“Used to all the girls just throwing themselves at you are you? Don’t have to sing for your supper?”

She missed the startled look in his eyes as she turned to make sure the door had locked behind her.

“Something like that.”

He helped her into the truck and she gave him directions through the one-way streets north until they were deep in a residential neighborhood. “It’s this one up here on the left.” He parked the truck alongside several other vehicles in a dirt lot.

When they were walking up to the door, the armadillo butterflies made a sudden reappearance. “Are you sure it’s okay that I’m here with you? I feel very rude.”

She grabbed his wrist. “Come on, silly. You’re fine.” She knocked on the front door and then opened it.

“Hola, mamá,” she called as she walked into the small home. “Traje un amigo. Él está demasiado flaco, y te necesito para que lo engordes con tú comida sabrosa.

A short woman with grey hair streaking through her long dark hair came out of the kitchen. Her smile was the friendliest thing he had ever seen. “¿Hijita, por qué trajiste otro hombre? ¿Y además güero? Quiero que te cases con uno de mis hijos. Ya lo sabes.”

“Sí, mamá, pero tus hijos no se quieren casar conmigo. No puedo cocinar como tú.” Wren kissed the woman on both cheeks as they embraced.

Ben watched this exchange with absolutely no idea of what was being said. Then the older woman embraced him and kissed him on the cheek. “Bienvenido. Welcome to my home.”

“Thank you.”

“You like our little bird, no?” Wren turned bright red and laughed as Ben’s eyes widened in surprise. He wasn’t sure if he was being teased or not, and suddenly he felt sixteen again.

“No, I mean, yeth, I like her. But we just met today.” He grimaced internally at the lisp. What was it about her that made him lisp?

“¡Mamá!, no más bromas. Él es un hombre agradable.”

“Sí. Y ya tienes un hombre al alcance de tu mano. Debes agarrarlo antes de que se vaya.”

“¡Lo conocí hoy!”

Mama looked at her consideringly. “No dejes para mañana lo que puedas hacer hoy.  El tiempo es una puta  que hace arrugas a través de tu cara.”

¡Mamá! Wren’s blush flared up again and Ben started to get concerned.

“Más vale pájaro en mano que cien volando.” She laughed and went back into the kitchen.  

Wren shook her head.

Ben looked at her warily. “Do I need to be concerned about any of that?”

“No, Mama just thinks I should marry you quick before you get away. She’s very concerned I’m going to end up an old maid.”

“You look much too young to be worrying about that.”

“Yes, but Mama worries about everyone. Give her some time to get to know you. She’ll add you to her evening prayers.”

She led him out a door into a courtyard covered in terra cotta tiles and illuminated by strings of fairy lights. The small courtyard opened out into a large grassy area. A football pitch was visible on one side, and a group of children were kicking around a ball. Music throbbed in the background and people were already dancing on a concrete pad. Ben looked around at the crowd. “Is this all her family?”

“No, it’s a pachanga. Sort of an extended family barbeque. Mama is related to just about everyone in the neighborhood through blood or marriage. The men have been out here roasting meat all afternoon and drinking of course, and the women have been making all sorts of other things to eat. The tables will start getting filled soon.” She took him by the hand and started introducing him to people. Names quickly slipped his memory but everyone was welcoming to him and excited to see Wren.

“They all seem to know you.”

“Mama’s daughter Rosa and I worked together for several years. She would bring me home on holidays.”

“I thought this was your first time here.”

“As a tourist. Coming home for a few days at Christmas and family is different than staying in a fancy hotel and going cenote diving and hiking the ruins, which is what I want to do this time. Have a good chunk of time to saturate myself in this culture before I’m off again for who knows how long.”

“I thought you would be tired of it after five years.”

She laughed. “Oh honey, Mexico and Bolivia are nothing alike other than that they both speak Spanish.” She fished two beers out of a tub of ice and opened the bottles on the edge of the table with a firm smack.  

“That’s an interesting talent.”

She handed him the dripping bottle but didn’t let go as he wrapped his fingers around it. Stepping into his personal space she looked up at him though her eyelashes. “You have no idea the kind of talents I have.” She could hear him swallow over the sound of the music and watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. She trailed a fingertip down his neck. “No idea at all,” she murmured and then turned and walked into the swirling sea of people on the dance floor.

Ben watched her go, his jaw a little slack. Mama walked by and nudged him in the side with her elbow. “Do not let that one go. She is good for you.”

He looked down at the woman who had a knowing smile on her wrinkled face and nodded absent-mindedly. She might be very good for him, indeed. It took him a minute to find where she’d gotten off to. He found her on the dance floor being two stepped around the humble floor by a man younger than him. Her beer dangled from her hand that was slung across his shoulder and she was laughing at something he said. She was completely unaware of him as he watched her laughing and dancing. When the song ended, she came over to him without having to look for him, so maybe she hadn’t been completely unaware after all.

“Come on Timothy, you’re not going to have any fun being a wall flower.” She tugged him out on the dance floor, and he quickly found his rhythm with her in his arms. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was a step up from just swaying back and forth.

“It’s not quite as mariachi band sounding as I was expecting.”

She laughed. “At least you’re in the right country this time. This is  _trova_. It’s more Cuban than Mexican. The Yucatan in general is more Caribbean in flavor than Mexican.”

“How do you know so much about all this?”

“I travel as much as I can. Wandering feet, wandering heart, something like that. I have a goal to visit every country in the world.”

“How many have you gotten?”

She thought for a moment. “Fifty or so? I have a list in my journal.”

“That’s amazing.”

“It’s not that difficult. I’ve knocked out all of North and South America, and then I spent a year working in Thailand and got most of Southeast Asia that way. And then I spent a summer on the West Coast of Africa and got several countries.”

“Do you pick your jobs based on where you haven’t gone before?”

“That’s a lot of it. I keep wanting to do and see and taste and hear something new, don’t you? I’m always wondering what’s around the next corner.”

“So what’s next on your travel list?”

“Europe hopefully. It’s a little funny that I’ve never been anywhere on the continent. And I should go soon before any more of the Balkans split again.”

He chuckled. “You just take off and go by yourself?”

“Of course. Why not?”

“I think a lot of women wouldn’t feel safe travelling by themselves.”

“Like I said, I have so many hidden talents.”

“Is that your way of telling me not to sneak up on you from behind and grab you in the dark?”

She gave him a warning look. “Not unless you want to make me cry. I don’t deal well with being scared.”

“How about if I just roll over and grab you in the dark?” His voice was deeper than before.

She smiled appreciatively. “Much better with the flirting.”

He was about to press her for an answer when someone made a loud announcement.

Wren smiled up at him. “Food’s ready.”

It took probably half an hour to get their plates filled and find some chairs. Ben had asked Wren where the utensils were and she laughed and dropped a stack of small corn tortillas on his plate.

“Okay, you can try and make a taco with it, but traditionally, you just tear off a piece of the tortilla and use it like a spoon.” She demonstrated, using a piece to scoop up a mouthful of rice and beans. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she swallowed. “Oh, god, nothing is as good as this.”

Ben followed her example and was similarly delighted. “This is amazing. Why does it taste so good?”

“Lard.”

“What?”

“You have to cook with lard to get the right flavor. Oh, and there’s epazote in there too. And of course, those tortillas were made fresh about an hour ago, so that helps.”

He took a bite. “Is this how you eat wherever you travel?”

“Fancy hotels and hole-in-the-wall restaurants. And people are amazingly kind and generous and love to feed me wherever I go.”

“I should travel with you.” He scooped another mouthful.

Wren tore off a bite-sized piece of carne asada. “You could, you know,” she said before she popped it in her mouth.

“I could what?”

“Travel with me.”

Ben looked at her in surprise. “Really?”

She took a long swallow of her beer. “I’m pretty sure you’ve been giving me the ‘wanna have a vacation fling’ treatment all day. And I’m not opposed. We seem fairly compatible travel wise. Adventures and adrenaline and exploring off the beaten track, right?”

He nodded.

“Then why not?”

“You’ve done this before?”

“A few times. It’s unusual for me to find someone that I think could keep up with me, but I think you could.”

“So how does this work? Are there rules or something?”

She smiled at his sudden innocence. “This is not about sex. It’s about having someone to adventure with.  _If_ we have sex one night it doesn’t mean you have rights to me for the rest of the trip. I am not a fuck-toy. Condoms always. No personal questions or volunteering of personal information. And if at any time one of us decides we’re done, we’re done. No questions asked.”

He nodded slowly. “That sounds reasonable.”

“So, how long are you here?”

“I have to catch a flight in Mexico City in eight days.”

She grinned at him. “Perfect timing. That’s where I’m flying out of.”

“Well, then. That’s settled. I’m going to eat now before my food gets cold.”

She clinked the neck of her bottle against his and set to her own supper. He watched her as she ate, the way she took obvious delight in her food, savoring each mouthful, the flickers of her eyelids, the way her tongue flicked out to lick her fingers clean. There was an unstudied ease to it that convinced him she had no idea what she was doing to him. He had to force himself to look away as he felt his cock stirring to wakefulness in his jeans.

Wren had no sooner put her plate down than she was swept onto the dance floor again by a man she obviously knew.  He didn’t have time to mope before a young woman he vaguely remembered being introduced to earlier asked him to dance. The music got louder and the dancing more enthusiastic as the evening progressed. With much laughter and good natured gesturing, Enrique and Santiago insisted on teaching him how to dance correctly.  The women laughed as they watched him master the new steps and then were willing partners for him to practice. He occasionally caught a glimpse of Wren’s blue hair, or the sunset colored stripes of her skirt swirling, but he was having too much fun to wonder who she was dancing with. Finally, he decided he needed to sit out a song so he could get something to drink. Clutching two dripping bottles, he looked for Wren just as he heard a commotion ripple through the dancers. Within seconds, a large circle was cleared in the middle of the dance floor, and a laughing and blushing Wren was led by the hand out into the middle. She said something to the man that he didn’t catch but caused a round of laughter. The man looked at her reproachfully and she sighed dramatically and laughed and then struck a pose, one hip cocked out to the side and both arms elegantly outwards. The music started and so did the dancers. It was solo work at first, both of them facing out, and they must have done this before because they moved in unison. He had no idea how she was moving like that. She must have been double jointed in her hips and in her shoulders and maybe her elbows and knees as well. Her hips swiveled, seemingly of their own accord, as her shoulders moved in counterpoint. Her feet never stopped, and he realized she had on high heels as the man turned and brought her against him. It was three minutes of he wasn’t really sure what, not a jive, not a merengue, but some sort of cross that was rhythmic and upbeat and joyful. He could tell by the grin on her face that Wren was having the time of her life as she kicked and twirled. It wasn’t perfect, he could see her catch her heel in her skirt a few times, and at least once she went the wrong direction, but he was having almost as much fun watching her as she was doing it.

When the song was over, Wren curtsied to the applause and kissed her partner on the cheek and then walked over to him and plucked one of the cold bottles from his hand. “I’m assuming this is for me?” she asked and didn’t bother waiting for an answer as she took a long swig.

“I had to use a bottle opener. I hope that’s okay.”

She made a noise of agreement as she took another swallow. “I’ve forgotten how fast that man can dance.”

“Who is he?”

“That’s Eddie. He’s Rosa’s older brother. Last time I was here it rained for three days straight and we were so bored that the last day we went and broke into the school and used the gymnasium to hold an impromptu dance contest. We paired off, gave everyone three hours, and then came back and performed.”

“You learned  _that_  in three hours?”

“Well, that routine. And really, Eddie makes me look much better than I am. Most kids around here grow up dancing in some form or another, though. Nights like this are very common. They taught you to dance, didn’t they?” She smiled up at him as she wiped the sweat dampened hair off of her brow.

“They didn’t teach me that.”

“Well, give them enough time and they will.”

“You’re here a lot, aren’t you?”

“I think that falls under personal question territory.”

“Ah, right.”

They stood watching the dancing as they finished their drinks. Ben took the bottles and tossed them in the bin. He turned back to her but she was gone. Looking around for her blue hair, he saw her walking back to him with two small plates in her hands. She handed him one.

“Mama made flan,” she said with a beatific smile.

Ben took a bite, thankful that this time there was a fork, and groaned in delight.

Wren nodded her head in agreement. “I know, right? She made it with coconut milk this time.”

“This is amazing.”

“It’s amazing I don’t put on twenty pounds each time I come home to visit.”

“You probably dance off everything you eat.”

When they were finished with dessert she asked, “One more dance before we go?”

He nodded and took her hand and led her out onto the dance floor again. “I’m going to feel self-conscious now.”

“Don’t. Just remember, move from your knees, not your hips.”

“Really?”

“Here, let me show you.”

She turned so her back was to him. “Put your hands on my hips.”

He chuckled, low and throaty and she shot him a dirty look over her shoulder. “Child.”

He placed his hands on her hips, admiring the look of his thumbs stretched out over her lower back. He could feel the vee of her hip bones under his fingertips.

She placed her hands over his, holding them steady. “I’m going to shift my hips to the left.”

He watched as they moved a few inches. “That’s with my knees locked. Now watch if I move from my knees.”

She came back to center and he felt her pelvic cradle tilt forward and sink slightly and then she shifted her hips and they moved at least six inches further to the side than previously.

“Wow. How did you do that? I felt you did something with your hips beforehand. You changed the angle or something.”

“You’re observant. You need to sink your weight a little bit, so you kind of bend a little at the knees and bring your weight forward… It’s easier to show than explain.” She turned around. “Bend slightly at the knees. Okay, now, here.” She grabbed his hips and moved them forward and down. “Feel the difference?”

“Oh. Yes, that does make a difference.”

“Good, now dance with me.”

“My lady.”

She took his hand and he swung her into the circling crowd. After a few seconds, she said, “You’re already better than you were earlier this evening.”

“Well, I’ve had great teachers and enthusiastic companions all evening.”

“You’re a fast learner though. High kinesthetic intelligence. No wonder you’re a thrill seeker. Your body must get bored easily.”

He thought about that for a while. “I guess that’s true. I like to find out what my body can do, challenge it, transform myself.”

The song ended and a new one started, and he transitioned seamlessly to the slower tempo and different rhythm. He pulled her closer and she relaxed against him, resting her temple against his chin. Silently they danced together under the fairy lights and the stars. He had to fight the urge to turn his head and kiss her brow she felt so natural in his arms, but he had a feeling that anything resembling romantic was frowned upon under their agreement. Not, of course, that he was looking for anything romantic or long term. This was just a vacation fling, he reminded himself.

When the song was over, she threaded her fingers through his.  “Shall we go?”

Benedict nodded. Maybe a little romance was okay.

On the way back to the hotel, he pulled her across the bench seat and against his side, sliding her arm around her shoulders. She rested her head against him, speaking only to give directions back to the hotel. It was a quiet walk back to her room, hand in hand, fingers stroking against each other as their hands moved.

Ben had forgotten how awkward first dates could be. She stood with her back pressed up against her door and looked up at him. His eyes were darker than they had been all night, whether from the dim lighting or some other reason. She’d only spent a few hours in his company but she had already noticed the mercurial nature of his eye color, blues and greens a hint of yellow mixed together like an artist’s palette.

She reached up and slid her hand along his shoulder, letting her fingers come to rest on the back of his neck. He leaned down and kissed her, her full lips parting slightly from the pressure of his own. She touched the tip of her tongue to the dip of his cupid’s bow and then traced the joining of his lips. His mouth parted as his lips slanted across hers and their tongues touched lightly. She could feel the heat of his body as he moved closer, pressing against her. Their mouths moved together, lightly at first and then with more confidence as they found the ways each other liked to be kissed, the rake of teeth against her bottom lip, her tongue against the back of his teeth. She slid her hand up from his chest to thread her fingers through his lush curls. She tugged at his hair and he winced. “Gentle, darling. Sensitive follicles.”

“Sorry.” She let her head fall back against the door, her breath coming heavy across her parted lips. She looked up at him and said, “Would you like to come in for a drink, Timothy?”


	4. Chapter Three

Timothy.

She had called him Timothy.  _Of course she called you Timothy, you git. You told her that’s your name._  But what had seemed like a harmless bit of fun at the time now came back to haunt him. First was the idea that he was going to bed this woman on false pretenses, however innocent they might be. Secondly though, Timothy was his father’s name, and hearing a woman calling out his father’s name during sex just took the whole ‘who’s your daddy’ shtick to an entirely new disturbing level.

But then his eyes flash over her body, noting the faint outline of her nipples pressing against her shirt, and back up to her face with a growing smile. _Well, hopefully she isn’t talkative during sex. And if she is, I can always give her something else to do with her mouth._ “I’d love to, but I don’t have a condom with me.”

Wren’s face crinkles in disgust. “I was inviting you in for a drink, not sex.”

He steps back, his flirtatiousness shattering like hot glass under cold water. “Oh, I’m…I’m sorry. I misunderstood.”

She starts laughing. “Silly boy. I was kidding.” She opens her door and, grabbing him by the shirt front, pulls him in after her. “I’ve got condoms. If you want to, that is. Or we could just have a drink.” Her eyes are dark with only the light filtering through the gossamer curtains and the omnipresent red glow of the alarm clock to illuminate her face. The dimness strips out all color and leaves them both as phantasms in the impersonal hotel room.

Ben slips his hand around the back of her neck, needing to feel flesh and heartbeat under his touch because, all of a sudden, he’s afraid that she too, will disappear like Annie. She takes the touch as an invitation and slides her arms up and around his neck and lifts her mouth to his and then it is wet warmth and heartbeats and the feel of skin sliding on skin as he pulls off her shirt and slides his hands down her smooth back to the clasp on her bra. He hesitates, just for a moment, a fraction of a second as his brain screams ‘not Annie’ and he shuts it down like he has every other time, ‘not my fault.’ He unhooks her bra and pulls it off and she lifts her arms as he fumbles with the halter strap, and then her hands are pulling at his shirt as their mouths crash back together.  Buttons are undone and he’s toeing off his shoes and she’s pulling his shirt down his arms. She lowers her mouth to his chest, tongue flat and warm and questing and the humid salt tang of his skin on her tongue and she whispers, “You have an amazing body, Timothy,” and something snaps and he can’t do  _this_. He pushes her away and he can see the confusion and hurt on her face as he pulls his shirt back on, not bothering to button it but needing an extra layer of protection for his heart laid raw and bleeding and exposed.

He doesn’t know what to say and all he can concentrate on is the rising pressure in his throat and the stinging behind his eyes and he knows, he  _knows_ , that if he starts crying that he won’t stop, not here, not in front of this stranger with her blue hair and sunset skirt and easy laughter. Then she touches his face, so soft, so tender, so out of keeping with the cheeky and sunny persona, because this is warmth that heals, not sunburn bright but a nightlight in a child’s room to keep away the monsters that lurk under the bed. Her touch makes her real, makes this real, this moment of complete despair and loss and forgiveness in a stranger’s hotel room an ocean away from the woman who has lived in his heart for so long. Now that she is gone he has packed away the last few things she left behind and finally repainted the walls so that the faintly discolored rectangles from where her photos hung are gone and everything is new and clean and strange and unfamiliar and he feels awkward in his own skin. This is real, and Annie’s gone and it’s okay and the bandages are gone and all that’s left is scar tissue that must be stretched and exercised if he wishes to exorcise her ghost completely because that’s what he’s been making love to in his mind for the last four year. Her ghost. The disembodied embodiment of perfection. No room in his liturgy of worship to remember the almost constant insecurity that she loved Tom first and more. No hymn questioning his need to be patient and woo someone into choosing him through sheer stubbornness. No prayer to release him from his need to be rock and foundation and stone in a relationship, instead of transforming fire or cleansing water or the cheerful whimsical tease of air across stirring flesh. No appeal for the grace to let himself be loved the way he loves others.

Her touch anchored him into his body and heart and to the feelings that he had shoved down for four years of crowded loneliness and the years of being with Annie and begging her to choose him over and over and never fully believing, in his core, that she would love him, choose him, be the other half of his soul. He had always known that he was there to bide time, a scenic detour on the way to an actual destination.

The tears spilled down his cheeks, scalding hot and stinging as he fought them back, but no, this was his trademark – the ability to cry on demand. And now, he couldn’t get them to stop. No force of will or trick of the trade to get this sobbing heaving convulsing catharsis to cease. This wasn’t just for Annie. This was for Anna and Olivia and all the other relationships that he couldn’t make work, no matter how hard he tried. It was for the women he had fucked, who wanted the star and not the person, who wanted Sherlock to deduce them into frenzied orgasms of delight but had no idea what to do with the actual intelligence and humor and spontaneity of Benedict. These tears were most of all for him, and for so many years of being alone, even with Annie as she disappeared into her head while lying in their bed in his arms.

He feels her arms around him, and the press of her body, and he holds her tighter, willing to let someone else be the rock just this once because these waves of grief and shame and anger show no sign of ebbing. He needs someone else to hold him, to keep him from giving in and giving up. She shows no judgment, no awkward tension in her body, no questions. She is just there, absorbing the pain and anger and self-loathing. She gives nothing back to him. She just is. She doesn’t console him or tell him it will be okay or that everything will work out or any of the other platitudes people insist on applying like bandages to a sucking gut wound. She just sits with him in the darkness of his soul and is with him in the quiet creeping dawn of an empty heart.

Finally, he lifts his head from her shoulder and lets it fall back against the wall. He lets go of her to scrub at his face with his hands, sniffling as his fingers erase the tears and comb through his hair. She pulls her shirt back on and leans against the other wall, patiently present. He couldn’t even describe her as waiting. She is just there; not dependent on him, not needing him, not wanting him, but there if she is needed.

He finally says, “You probably want to know what that was about.”

“Not particularly. If you want to share, than I am here to listen, but sometimes we need to cry like babies at the shock and cruelty of a new world, and all we need is someone to hold us and tell us we are allowed to cry.”

He doesn’t say anything for several minutes. Again she is present but uninvolved. “Thank you,” he finally says, his voice still clogged with tears.

“Stay tonight? I feel like you would benefit from having someone around.”

He nods and slowly undresses like a child, leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor. She fetches something from her bag and goes into the bathroom. When she comes back out in her pajamas, he is stretched out on the bed, breathing slow and steady like he is sleeping. She lies down next to him and pulls the blanket up over his chest. She rolls over on her side and ponders the mystery of the man next to her until she falls asleep.

She wakes in the middle of the night as he gets out of bed. He comes back from the bathroom in a few minutes and slides back under the blanket. She can feel the tension in the air, his need for something that he is struggling to ask for, before his hand gently touches her shoulder, soft enough that it wouldn’t wake her if she was sleeping. She rolls to face him and he gently brushes a thumb across her forehead, pushing her hair out of her face. He is seeking something but she isn’t sure what, so she waits for him to ask.

“Will you hold me?” His voice is deep and rough from sleep but childlike at the same time.

She nods and stretches against him, learning the contours of his body. He turns onto his back and she moves so her head is on his chest, one arm stretched over his stomach, hand holding his hip. Their legs tangle together and his arms close around her, his hands gently wrapping around her skin, not the tear-sodden clutching of earlier. He sighs deeply; Wren feels her head rise and fall with his breath, and feels the tension melt out of his body. His breathing slows and steadies and he sleeps again, and so does she.


	5. Chapter Four

The sun was at their side as they drove south and to the east. The road was long and straight before them, and the unchanging scenery lulled them both into a comfortable state of timelessness. Ben had woken that morning to the sound of the hotel door opening. Wren was coming back into the room.

She smiled apologetically. “I went for a walk this morning. I didn’t want to disturb your sleep, but I think I just woke you.”

He sat up in bed, slightly groggy, with the stabbing eye pain of someone who has cried out their soul in the night. His hair was a mess. “I should be getting up anyway. Let you have your room back.” He ran his hands through his hair, knowing it had to be a mess. “Listen, thank you for last night. You were really generous to let me stay here, and I’m sorry for screwing up your night.”

She shook her head. “You didn’t screw up anything. Asking for help doesn’t mean you’re a screw up and accepting help doesn’t mean you’re a screw up.”

“But you had other plans,” he started and she laughed.

“You’re bound and determined to be an imposition, aren’t you?”

He smiled ruefully at her.

“That’s a thing with you, isn’t it?  You always feel like you’re imposing. Like you don’t have a right to occupy space.” She didn’t bother waiting for a response before she handed him a brown paper bag spotted with grease. “Buñuelos. I brought some back for you. You might like them with your coffee.”

He took the bag from her, not sure what to say. The smell coming from it was sweet and yeasty and decadent.

“I was going to take a shower. So you want to do ruins today? Cenote diving? Kayak with manatees? ”

“You’re still willing to vacation with me?”

Her brow furrowed at the question. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

And that’s how he had found himself back in the truck with Wren at his side, heading to the coast, their bags in the back of the truck’s cab. It had been a quiet drive, both of them content to let the wind blow through the windows and clear their thoughts. The radio played music that he didn’t understand and the wind pulled strands of hair from her braid and whipped them around her head like a cloud of candy floss.

“Her name was Annie.” He didn’t look at her, keeping his eyes fixed on the unchanging landscape ahead of him. “My name is Benedict, and her name was Annie.”

He dared a look at her, expecting judgment or fear. Some sort of ‘I’m in the middle of the jungle with a psychopathic liar and now he’s going to kill me in the replica of some quasi-Mayan sacrifice’ reaction. But she was freeing a strand of her hair that had worked its way into the corner of her mouth with a fingertip and didn’t seem concerned at all.

“Anthea, actually. But I always called her Annie.” He paused. “I’m an actor and she wrote an episode for the show I was filming,  _Sherlock_ , and we fell in love.”

An entire song played before he spoke again.

“She was already in love though, one of those star-crossed lovers things. He was one of my good friends. She and him were neighbors growing up, and became best friends. She fell in love with him as a teenager but he didn’t know, and it wasn’t until we were together that he realized that he was in love with her too. We were engaged. He was engaged to someone else.”

He paused. She reached forward and turned off the radio.

“She left me for him. That was four years ago. She just had their third kid last week. I had always hoped that she would come back to me, but she never did.”

 “She never will.”

The story came out in drips and drabs, like crystalized honey slowly spilling from a spoon.

 “I knew from fairly early in the relationship that she was in love with him. I just thought if I could love her enough, it would all work out. That she would love me the way I loved her. But she didn’t. She won’t.”

“So, I know this violates the no personal information clause of our agreement but I came here to try and get over her and that’s why I was using a different name and a different accent. I was trying to be someone other than the person I’ve been for the last four years waiting for something that’s never going to happen.”

The sun had moved several degrees across the sky before he finished. “I don’t want to be someone else, though. I want to be who I was before. Not before her, but before I let my love for her consume everything else about me. So, hi, I’m Benedict. But just call me Ben.”

“Ben.” She paused. “Ben and Wren. Wren and Ben. It’s like we should be a cartoon show. The Adventures of Ben and Wren starring the tall handsome hero and his quirky blue-haired sidekick.”

He grinned at her. “What if I want to be the side-kick?”

“You don’t strike me as the side-kick type.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You said you’re in  _Sherlock._ I’m assuming that’s a Sherlock Holmes adaptation?”

Ben fought back a look of surprise. He wasn’t used to people not knowing his work. “Yes.”

“Well, you’re Sherlock and not Watson, right?”

“Yes, but that’s just one role.”

She stretched lazily and then laid down on the bench seat, resting her head on his thigh as she stuck her bare feet out the window. “See, I’m the sidekick. The sidekick doesn’t drive. The side kick gets to do fun stuff like fiddle with the radio and stick her feet out the window.”

“Well maybe you should drive then.”

She smiled up at him, “But I’m comfortable.”

He looked down at the mess of blue hair and tan skin smiling up at him. “You look very comfortable.”

Her face twisted into a concerned grimace. “Do you expect advice from me about how to get over your ex? Because I really suck at giving advice.”

He shook his head. “I just wanted to be honest with you.”

“Oh good, because I am the least in touch with her feelings girl ever. Like, really my instinct right now would be to take you to a bar, get you drunk and hook you up with someone for kinky sex.”

He shook his head. “I think I’ve done enough of that in the last four years for the rest of my life.”

“Do you have a pet?”

“Uh, no, why?”

“Pets are good for unconditional love. You should get a dog.”

“I’m gone a lot when I’m filming. I don’t think I would want to put a dog through that.”

“But you wanted to put a human through it?”

An awkward silence fell in the truck.

“Sorry. See, I told you I suck at stuff like this.”

He laughed, struck by the gallows humor of her comment. “You’re right. That was probably the least compassionate advice I’ve ever been given.”

She snickered. “There’s a reason I work with pipes more than people.”

“You work with pipes? Like for smoking?”

She snorted. “No, I’m a glorified plumber.”

The answer seemed ridiculous coming from the pixie colored woman stretched out across the truck bench. “Really?”

“Yep. Where do you think I get these muscles?” She flexed her arms, managing to elbow him in the stomach with one and knock the steering wheel with the other.  He jerked the wheel back before they swerved off the road.

She scrambled out of his lap and crossed her legs under her, scared by the sudden jerking movement of the truck. “Wow, so apparently not only am I going to insult your life choices, I’m going to punch you in the stomach and then drive you off the road and into a tree.”

Ben laughed. “I’m starting to think you should be the sidekick just out of self-defense. If you were the hero, I think you would kill both of us on accident.”

She rubbed at the skin over her sternum, feeling her racing heartbeat and trying to soothe it. “See, I told you I was side-kick material. You should just listen to me next time before I accidentally bruise you again.”

He could tell she was trying to laugh it off but her voice was shaky. “I don’t think you managed to actually bruise me.”

“That’s right, because you’re the superhero. You don’t bruise.”  She paused for a second and that looked at him curiously. “Have you ever actually played a superhero?”

“You mean with the cape and the tights and all? No.”

“Do you want to?”

He shook his head. “I’d rather be James Bond.”

She nodded. “James Bond is good. And he always had great cars.” She grinned at him. “So, go ahead and say it.”

“Say what?”

“The line.”

He chuckled. “Bond. James Bond.”

“Damn, you have a good voice. It’s like biblical prophet voice. Say something else.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, like a poem or something you have memorized. You’re an actor, you must have an audition piece up in there somewhere.”

He thought for a few moments, and then pushed the button to raise the windows. Waiting until the wind was no longer whipping through the cab and the air had settled, he said, “Let us go then, you and I…”

By the time he was done with the poem, she had curled up with her back to the door of the truck, her arms wrapped around her knees, her feet on the seat in front of her. Her chin rested on one knee and she had been watching him intently. The last word faded away and she didn’t say anything.

Finally, she let out the breath she had been holding to not disturb the flow of his words. “You’re famous, aren’t you.”

It wasn’t a question.

He shot her a look out of the corner of his eye and rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. “Umm, yeah, a bit.”

“A bit.” He had never heard someone sound so dubious.

She watched him as he didn’t respond further, instead stroking his hand absentmindedly along his thigh. She nudged his hand with her foot. “Is that a nervous habit, or are you normally a fidgeter?”

“Trying to decide how far into ‘personal information’ territory I want to go.”

“Ah, right.” She was fairly certain that mean he was a celebrity. “Well, how about this? No more questions and we stop at this stand up here and eat something weird.” She pointed at a road side palapa they were approaching. “And I need to use the loo. That’s what you call it, right?”

“Don’t worry, I speak American.”

“Okay. But I want a piggy back ride.”

He looked at her in surprise. “You want a what?”

“A piggy back ride. Do they not call them that where you’re from?”

“No, they do. But I haven’t given one in ages.”

“Good. Then it’s one step back to who you used to be. To who you were before.”

He pulled the truck to a halt on the dirt in front of the palapa. And he gave her a piggy back ride.

 


	6. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains spoilers for the book Bridge to Terebithia. I’m assuming everyone has read it, but just in case you haven’t, this chapter gives away the ending. If you want to recap the book, or refresh your memory about the characters, you can find a good summary on Wikipedia.

They had enjoyed four days of paradise. Swimming with dolphins, kayaking with manatees, parasailing, hiking through jungle and up ancient ruins and soaking in the sun and salt water until they were bonelessly relaxed. They had danced to live music at little party cabanas, lit with bonfires and strings of colored fairy lights.

It had been an interesting four days in other ways besides just the adventures. They had eaten at the little palapa on the side of the road – grilled plantains with honey and sopes with grilled fish and lime – and when they had gotten in the truck again she hadn’t asked any more questions. Instead she had pulled her Kindle out of her bag. She’d curled up in her seat, her back against the truck door, put her bare feet in his lap and started reading aloud.

She didn’t have an actor’s voice, and there were times he wanted to make her stop as she would butcher the correct pacing and delivery of a line, but it was soothing to listen to her wrap him in another world without having to create it himself. They spent a lot of time in the truck that way, her reading with her feet in his lap, and he found that he would always end up stroking her calf, or with his hand resting on her foot, his thumb idly rubbing against the arch as he listened.

They touched a lot. It was rare for them not to be holding hands while they walked, or for him to give her a piggy back ride across the hot sand to the water, or for her to rest her head on his shoulder as they sat together. They fell asleep each night wrapped in each other’s arms. And for all that, they never kissed. There wasn’t even any romantic energy between the two of them. Actually, there were times when Ben felt distinctly less than romantic towards Wren, like when she insisted on throwing away his cigarettes every time he left them out. The first time had been after they had gotten back in the truck after one of the numerous pee breaks they took. He seriously thought she had to possess the smallest bladder of anyone he had ever met. Every two hours like clockwork she would make him pullover. Luckily she didn’t have any qualms about peeing behind a tree.

He had smoked a cigarette and tossed the pack onto the seat when he got back in the truck. When they got back on the road, she rolled the window down and faster than he could react, grabbed the pack and threw them out the window.

“Why did you do that?”

“Because smoking’s gross and will kill you.”

He sighed deeply; the sigh of a man that has had this argument before. “I’m a grown man and I can make my own choices.”

“And I can choose to throw away your cigarettes when I see them.”

“Some people might consider that rude.” He was icily polite.

“Some people might wonder why you’re slowly committing suicide,” she snarked back.

“Dramatic much, are we dear?” She did not have the monopoly on sarcasm in this vehicle.

“It just seems odd to me that for someone who makes his living with his voice and his body has a hobby that destroys both of them. What’s that about?”

His vacation had suddenly turned into a therapy session. “Like you don’t have any bad habits?”

“Deflect much? And I don’t think an addiction to teen movies featuring marching bands and cheerleading competitions is on quite the same level. They may rot my brain, but they aren’t actually killing me.

“Competitive cheerleading movies?” He looked at her like she had just professed a love for alien on hippo pornography.

“ _Bring It On_ , baby! Have you seen it?” Her sarcasm had been completely replaced by enthusiasm.

“That’s like asking playing Beethoven to play ‘Chopsticks.’”

“Can you pull over? I need to get out because I don’t think there’s enough room in here for me and your ego at the same time.”

“Ha. Ha.”

“I think I liked you better when you were ‘a bit’ famous.”

“I think I liked you better when you didn’t throw my things out the window.”

She went back to reading aloud. He didn’t leave his cigarettes out much after that and the chill between them faded by the time she needed another pee break.

He finally had to ask the question that had been gnawing at him for the last several days. “Did you pick  _Bridge to Terebithia_ on purpose, or is that just something you had on your Kindle?”

“On purpose?”

“To teach me a lesson.”

“What lesson are you getting from it?”

He rolled his eyes. “This boy and this girl have this amazing magical life, and then the girl dies in an accident on the way to their place together, and the only way the boy can heal is by letting someone else into the magicland. So, I’m the little boy, and Annie’s the girl, and we had it really good, and then she left, tainting the whole idea of love and relationships, because it won’t be the same without her, and I have to get past that and let myself look for love and find someone else that I can share that with if I ever want to be truly happy again. To be a king.” The words spilled out of him, like water from a breached dam. When she didn’t response he looked over at her, only to find her looking at him with a dumbstruck expression.

“Leslie dies?” she asked in disbelief.

Horrified at having committed a book lover’s ultimate  _faux pas,_ he asked, “You’ve never read it before?”

“No! Why would I read it again if one of the kids dies? That’s horrible. What kind of shit book is this?”

“You’ve  _seriously_  never read  _Bridge to Terebithia_  before?” He couldn’t believe that he had spoiled this book for her.

“No! We didn’t all get the Harry Potter prep school experience you did.”

He scowled at her. “I didn’t go to Hogwarts.”

“Yeah, well, you might as well have compared to what I went to.”

“So, that’s why you’re reading it now?”

“I didn’t get to read a lot growing up. So I’m going back and reading all the award winners now. Seriously, though. She dies?”

Ben nodded and looked at her apologetically. “Sorry for ruining the ending for you.”

“I liked her. She reminded me of me.” She closed the cover on her Kindle and tucked it back in her bag. A few minutes later she said, “That’s a good lesson you’re getting out of it, though. You should probably pay attention to what your brain is telling you.”

That night in their hotel room, Ben got the Kindle from Wren’s bag, and stretched out on the bed. “Come here,” he said, and patted the spot next to him.

“Why?”

“I’m going to read you the rest of  _Bridge to Terebithia_.”

“I don’t want to hear it. Not if she dies.”

“It will be okay. Come let me read to you.”

She reluctantly laid down next to him, and he pulled her close so she was cradled on his shoulder, and he had one arm around her. He started to read.

She started to cry when Jesse was told that Leslie had died and cried through the rest of the story. She was a silent crier, silent and still, and the only reason Ben knew that she was crying is he could feel the tears dampening his shirt.

When he got to the end, he closed the Kindle.

“You have a wonderful voice for that,” she finally said.

“Are you okay?”

“My family was kind of like that. I never fit in during school. My parents lived on a farm outside of town. They called themselves farmers, but they smoked everything they grew. I never had the right clothes, or the right haircut. I was fast though. Always made the sports teams. Then I got taken away and placed with my grandmother and things were better for a while, but she finally died from emphysema, and I got put in foster placement. Kicked me out on my eighteenth birthday.” She paused for a long time. “I was really hoping Leslie got a happy ending.”

 He stroked his fingers through her long hair, soothing her the only way he knew how. He knew how false promises of eventual happy endings could ring to someone still waiting to be asked to the dance. When her hair was fanned out around her like the sky, he said. “Maybe you’re not Leslie. Maybe you’re May Belle.”

“If I am, I wish my Jesse would show up soon and show me how to cross the river.”

The words hung heavy in the air, as fragrant with loneliness and heartache as the beach air outside their room smelled of salt and fish being grilled over driftwood. Before he could question the impulse, he rolled on his side and cupped her face with a hand. He looked in her eyes, noticing the redness from her crying. Her lips were trembling, turned down at the edges, and he could feel the tension in her body. She placed her hand on his chest, and he felt her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, and tug him gently towards her. 

It was slow and sweet and he could taste the salt of her tears on her lips. They kissed for hours that night as they lay twined in each other’s arms on the hotel bed. They kissed until their lips were sore, and her neck bore the faint rash from his beard, and she had explored every inch of his throat with her tongue; the firm smooth strong neck she had spent so many hours looking at in the truck the last few days. She could feel him hard against her stomach, and he could smell the faint tang of her arousal, but this, somehow incredible and perfect, was enough for both of them. Sometimes, you simply don’t want to face the loneliness alone.

 


	7. Chapter Six

Wren was awake. Even though she hadn’t opened her eyes, Ben knew she was awake. Her breathing had changed, and if there was one thing actors learned how to do it was to fake sleep correctly, and hers wasn’t. He didn’t mind though. Something had changed last night, and he didn’t think it was just due to the kissing. She had cried in front of him, and maybe that made him feel on more even ground since he had already cried in front of her, or maybe it was that she was more comfortable around him now that he knew more of her secrets and hadn’t rejected her. Whatever it was, the room felt different this morning as he watched the dawn light shift from aubergine to periwinkle. The woman in his arms mirrored the sunrise in her hair, but her soul – he sighed and tightened his arms around her, shifting her slightly so he could kiss the top of her head – her soul was a complicated confection of blown glass and cast iron.

“Come on, little bird. Time to leave the nest.”

She made a noise of disagreement, screwing her eyes tighter shut.

He kissed her gently on the forehead. “Come on. We’re going cenote diving today.”

“But you’re comfy.”

He chuckled and she smiled at the way the sound vibrated against her cheek. “We’ll go get buñuelos to go with our coffee.” He had discovered that she had a sweet tooth to rival his.

“Tempting,” she murmured, but didn’t open her eyes.

“What else do I need to tempt you with to get you going this morning?” He hesitated and then kissed her softly.

She sighed. “Well, kissing me isn’t going to make me want to get out of bed.” She reluctantly rolled over onto her back and stretched, yawning until she felt like her skull would split. She finally opened her eyes and looked at him. “Well, that just isn’t fair.”

“What?”

“How in the hell is your bed head that sexy?”

He laughed.

“No, I’m serious. You have gorgeous coppery curls that I would kill for instead of my boring hair, and they’re all luscious and gorgeous and ‘play with me Wren, you know you want to’ and that’s just fuckall to wake up to in the morning.”

“How can you think your hair is boring?”

She grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled it forward to look at it. “What, because my friends convinced me to dye it blue?” She snorted. “They knew I had time off before my next position, so they said, ‘Come on, you’re finally going to do something with that hair.’ ‘We’ll get rid of the wren and turn you into a bluebird,’ they said. Well, I guess it worked. You actually saw me. No one ever looked twice when it was brown.”

“You’re kidding, right? I noticed you the moment you got off your motorbike. Sexy as hell, and a bit of a flirt to boot.”

“It’s all the hair. I tried to live up to it, but, you know, you can only fake that for so long before people realize you’re just a mockingbird.”

“I don’t understand. You owned that dance floor. That’s not the behavior of someone who’s invisible.”

“Mama’s is the one place that I am at home. Home is where people actually see you.”

“But what about all the vacation flings? You don’t attract that kind of attention unless you stand out in a crowd.”

Her laugh was bitter. “Or you lie. I so wanted to be special for a minute. To have you spend more than a night with me because there is something magical about you. But I couldn’t even do that right – I pulled your hair and made you cry. It’s like I’m still eight or something and I’m chasing boys on the playground except I didn’t even do that. You know how I got the nickname Wren? My talent for blending in and being invisible. Little brown bird that no one sees.”

Ben could feel the pain rolling off of her in waves. “What is your real name?”

“Renata.”

“Rebirth.”

She nodded. “My parents were very big into the whole reincarnation thing.”

“And you’re not?”

“The idea of there being something after this is nice, but reincarnation never really did it for me. I mean, either I’m saddled with the baggage of other people’s mistakes in the past, and I’m screwing up someone else’s future, which is more responsibility than I want, or it all just gets wiped clean when you die and the soul gets a new start, which is nice for them, but means that everything I accomplished just got erased.”

“I think Renata is a beautiful name, and I think you’re beautiful.”

She snorted. “You’re very kind. But of course you are. You’re perfect.”

“I am not perfect.”

“No, but you are. You’re tall and have great hair, and a lovely body, and I could spend hours just watching you if that wasn’t creepy. And you’re smart and you have this weird combination of dorkiness and suave sexiness that is endearing. It’s like a twelve year old boy is playing James Bond, and sometimes forgets and goes back to being a twelve year old boy. Or you are James Bond and sometimes he acts like a child. I’m honestly not sure which part of you is the main part. And your laugh is genuine and makes your eyes crinkle and you recite poetry from memory and you’re just too good to be real. I’m just this little brown bird and you’re an entire zoo.”

He brushed his fingers against her cheek. He had rolled onto his side so he could see her better, even though she was talking more to the ceiling than to him. “Renata, you are more than a little brown bird.”

“You’re right. I’m a little brown bird in a bluebird costume.”

“You’re also my friend.”

She turned her head to look at him. Her eyes were wide in surprise. “I’m your friend?”

“I don’t hold hands and cuddle and give piggy back rides to just anyone, you know. And I definitely don’t sleep with them in my arms or kiss them for hours. You’re the first new person I’ve felt like myself around since Annie. That may not mean a lot to you, but it means a hell of a lot to me.”

She managed half a smile for him. “I’m glad I could help. Of course, it could just be that I have no idea who you are, so I treat you like a person instead of a celebrity.”

“Whatever it is, you have been a gift.” He smoothed back her hair from her face. “I don’t think it’s just that you don’t know who I am, though. You have a joy to you that is healing. You’re determined…no, that’s the wrong word. You find the best in any situation you’re in. You savor the small pleasures.”

She went back to staring at the ceiling. “Yeah, well, when no one else is concerned about making you happy, you sort of learn to do it for yourself or be sad all the time.”

She was trying to sound serene and come across as independent and strong, but her voice sounded bleak and lonely.

“I think you’ve been alone for too long.”

“Depending on another person to make you happy is just a recipe for getting hurt. It’s safer to just not care.”

“But you do care. You care down to your heart, Nata, and it is wounding you with every beat of your heart.”

She looked at him again, anger written in every line in her face. “You barely know me. Don’t tell me about my heart.”

“You tell me this story about this shy little brown bird but it doesn’t match anything I’ve seen of you. You’re confident and strong and sexy and, yes I said sexy,” he repeated at her look of disbelief, “and you dance and you laugh and you make me laugh and you have this adventurous core and everyone you have interacted with loves you. You aren’t a wallflower. You’re the belle of the ball.”

She shook her head. “It’s because this is home. Merida is the first place I have ever felt love, so it’s easy here. And then I go live in these villages in underdeveloped countries, and they don’t care that I’m not smart or not dressed right, and say the wrong things. They love me because I don’t look down on them. I eat their food and wear their clothes and learn their language. They don’t expect anything from me so I can’t disappoint them. It’s enough that I’m trying.”

“And you don’t expect the rest of the world to treat you like that?”

Her laugh was bitter as a wedge of lemon. “It never has before.”

“Is that why you’ve never travelled to Europe?”

“Don’t feel like picking at the scab.”

“How long has it been since you’ve been home?”

She looked at him. “ _This_  is home.”

“Then how long since you went back to where you were raised.”

“Left on my eighteenth birthday. Never went back. Didn’t have anything to go back to.” Her jaw was set as if expecting him to argue with her about that.

“And you’ve been wandering ever since.”

“I come home on regular basis. But I don’t have an apartment somewhere full of furniture and mementos, if that’s what you mean. I travel light.”

“But with a heavy heart.”

“This conversation is getting way too deep for someone who hasn’t had coffee yet.” She rolled over to get out of the bed but Ben grabbed her by her hand.

“I think you’re selling a lot of the world short, Nata, if you think that no one else can see how amazing you are.”

She didn’t look at him. “I got sold short a long time ago, Ben. It’s too late to go get a refund.”

She pulled free of his hand went into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Ben heard the water turn on immediately. He knew she was crying. He just didn’t know what to do about it.

 


	8. Chapter Seven

_A/N NSFW_

When Wren opened the bathroom door, she was wearing just a towel. Ben looked away, not that he hadn’t seen her in a bikini almost every day,  but she looked like she had barely stopped crying, and he wanted to give her the emotional space the shared hotel room didn’t provide in physical space. “Breakfast is ready when you are.”

She looked over at him and managed most of a smile. “The coffee smells wonderful.” She grabbed her clothes from her bag and retreated back into the bathroom. She came back out in a pink vest and floral boxers, her wet hair darkening the back of her shirt. When she came over to the table where he was sitting, he took her hand and tugged her onto his lap.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to feed you breakfast.”

“I’m perfectly capable of feeding myself.”

“I know. But just because you can do something for yourself, doesn’t mean others can’t do it for you if you let them.” He wasn’t talking about breakfast, and he could tell by the slight flush to her cheeks that she knew that.

He held up a chunk of fresh pineapple. She rolled her eyes at him but reached out to take the fruit from him. He pulled it back and shook his head. “With your mouth.”

She blinked in surprise and he felt her shift in his lap, but when he held the fruit out again, she took it from him, carefully sinking her teeth into it so that she didn’t touch his fingers.

He fed himself in between feeding her. Pieces of fruit, bites of sweet roll, tiny corn tortillas filled with scrambled eggs and chorizo and drizzled with salsa. The sauce dripped down his fingers as he fed it to her and she caught his hand and licked his fingers clean while she watched his face, trying to gauge his reaction. His eyes, which had been every shade of the sky and sea during their days together went dark as his pupils widened. He watched her silently, eyes growing hooded as she let her tongue continue down, swirling around the center of his palm. The next piece of papaya he held between his teeth.

She leaned in and took it from him, her lips barely brushing against his, and then leaned back again. He moved his hand that had been resting against her back down her spine and then back up, letting his fingers slide under her shirt and rest against her warm skin. She didn’t make any protest and the next morsel she took from his mouth she lingered against his lips for a moment before she pulled away.

He held up a slice of strawberry and looked at her, raising an eyebrow in silent question, but she shook her head and leaned in to kiss him instead. She tasted of papaya and fried plantains and coffee, and smelled like coconut and lime from her shower. He found himself instantly back to where they were last night after hours of kissing and felt an urgency to make love to her that he hadn’t experienced since Annie. He wasn’t going to be content just to give her a good time; he wanted to share something special with her.

She had her hands in his hair, playing with the curls that she had cursed that morning. She’d learned her lesson about being gentle with them, and her fingers danced over his scalp, leaving behind a tangled web of tingles across his head as they kissed. He was impatient though, wanting more than this and he picked her up and carried her to the bed where he gently set her down. He pulled off his tee and let it fall to the floor as he climbed onto the bed, covering her body with his. He kissed along her chin until she let her head fall back, letting him kiss down her throat. He could feel her heart beating fast as a bird’s as he let his hands tug up her shirt, his fingers skimming across the long lines of her stomach, tracing the edge of her rib cage. Her heels were resting in the back of his knees and he could feel the gentle undulation of her body under him as she shaped herself to him.

Ben worked her shirt further up until he freed one of her breasts. He kissed down her chest until he reached the swell and slowly worked his way around the orb, licking the line of demarcation between her tan and the paler natural color of her skin, nipping at the delicate flesh, kissing the pale lines of old stretch marks. He pulled up the other side of her shirt, and gave the same tender worship to her other breast, avoiding her nipples for now, wanting to focus on less obvious points of pleasure on the rest of her body. He found a strawberry birthmark on the bottom swell of her breast that looked like a star and traced it with his tongue as he ran his hand down her side, over the cotton of her shorts, down the warmth of her thigh. He pulled up on her leg and she hooked it around his hip as his hand stroked down her calf and then back up.

He let his tongue, warm and flat, brush over the tip of her nipple, making her arch up to him. She pressed her head down towards her breast and the first word either one of them had said since he had fed her that first piece of pineapple escaped her lips. “Please.”

He couldn’t resist her and sucked the peak of her breast into his mouth, letting his tongue roll the nub, pressing it against his palate, feeling her harden in his mouth just as he was hardening in his pants. Her skin was warm under his hands and he wanted to feel all of it under his lips. He kissed her all over, the curve of her shoulder, the inside of her elbow, sucking the skin between her thumb and forefinger like a wedge of lime. He rolled her over onto her stomach and kissed across her back, following the marks of her tan lines like a map as he pulled her shirt the rest of the way off of her. His mouth hungrily covered her shoulder blades with slow warm wet kisses, interspersing them with tender words of affection, telling her beautiful she was, describing the softness of her skin, the elegant lines of her body, how it felt as she moved against him.

He pushed her hair out of his way, piling it next to her head on the bed as he brushed his fingers across her lips and then trailed them down her neck. Ben kissed the soft skin where her arm met her back, sinking his teeth into her and then licking the mark better. She moaned at the firm feel of his teeth against her skin, and she pressed her bum up against him.

Ben pushed himself up on his hands and knees so he could work her shorts down her legs and Wren rolled over again so she was on her back with her knees together. He took a moment to appreciate the contrast between the blue of her hair and the tan of her skin and the white of the sheet underneath her before he lowered himself on to the bed. She was urgent and demanding but he took his time; he didn’t want to have this be something fast and meaningless. Her grasping hands and pleading murmurs slid over his body as he went back to exploring her, learning the way that she liked to be touched. He found the way she would quiver when he licked along her hip bone to be delightful. He finally kissed his way back up to her mouth, taking detours along the way to suckle and bite at her breasts, run his tongue over her birthmark once more and lick at the hollow of her throat. When their lips met, she tugged at his bottom lip, taking the fullness between her lips and then again between her teeth. He groaned deep in his throat at the feel. He sank his fingers into the curve of her hips, shifting her slightly, and then ran them down her thighs. She hooked her legs up around him again and started slowly grinding against him. “Please, Ben, no more tease. Just take me.”

“There’s no rush,” he murmured against her lips as he palmed her breast, teasing the hardened nub.

“Please, Ben, I need you to take me now.”

There was a note of almost panic in her voice that made him freeze. He looked into her eyes as he rested on his elbows, brushing her hair back from her face. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “Nothing, I’m just not patient. I don’t like being teased.”

“This isn’t teasing, Nata.” He traced her cheekbone with a finger. “This is lovemaking.”

“But you don’t love me.”

He chuckled, deep in his throat, and he could tell by the way that her eyes fluttered shut that she could feel the sound vibrating through her body. “Okay, then this is what sex is between friends.”

She blinked back the tears in her eyes. “You can’t do this to me.”

“Do what, darling?”

“You can’t make me know what I’m missing.”

His breath caught as he realized what she was saying. “Has no one ever taken the time to make love to you?”

“I tend more towards drunken fumbling and crazy vacation sex.”

He stroked her hair gently, feeling the need to soothe her, to calm her fraying nerves. “What about with past boyfriends?”

“That was the drunken fumbling part.”

“God, Nata,” he started to say.

“Stop calling me that.”

“Why?”

She shoved against his chest, pushing him away and he sat back on his heels. “Because it’s not who I am.”

“You’re not a wren either. You don’t need to hide from the world. Let people care about you, damn it!”

“You’re asking me to let myself get hurt. You’ve spent years of your life grieving over the woman who didn’t love you. You ran half way around the world to get away from her and you want me to do that? I can’t do that. I have my family here. They will always love me, and that’s good enough. Anything else is just begging to get hurt.”

He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “But you’re missing out on so much possible joy.”

“You don’t look really joyful, Ben. Do you want me to be you, forty one, heartbroken and picking up strangers on vacation? I’ll be forty one no matter what I do, but I can prevent the heartbreak.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Stop telling me what I mean.” She threw a pillow at him. “You have your happy little prep school life and you’re rich and famous and you don’t stumble over words when you read aloud. I’m just me, Ben. You come from an entirely different world than the one I live in, and I don’t want to spend the rest of my life knowing what it is like to have someone actually take the time to make it about something more than just getting off. I don’t want to miss one more thing.”

“But you don’t have to miss out.”

She pulled at her hair, her eyes screwed shut in anger. “Listen to me, Benedict. Imagine that I’m thinking of a number between one and a hundred in my head. You guess it, and you get handed the role of a lifetime, guaranteed Oscar win. Would you guess?”

“Of course.”

“Would you guess if you knew that if you got the number wrong, you would never get to act again.”

He paused. “In anything?”

“Nothing.”

“Then no.”

“That’s what I’m doing. The risk of putting my heart out there isn’t worth it for me.”

“But I’m still working towards winning an Oscar on my own.”

“Good for you. I’m glad you feel capable of doing that. But every movie you make isn’t kicking you in the balls at the end of filming either.” She sighed in frustration. “Listen, there’s a reason I made the ‘no personal information’ rule, and I probably should have kicked you out when you cried the first night, but I couldn’t. I wanted to help you, because you seemed so completely broken. And so I opened my heart a little bit, and I let you inside, and now here we are, fighting over the fact that I don’t want to get any more emotionally attached to a guy I’ll never see again four days from now. So, either fuck me or get out, but stop making me fall for you, because I won’t let myself get hurt like that again.”

Ben looked at her in disbelief. This kind of emotional drama was not what he needed. He had spent so much energy begging Annie to love him; he was not about to get involved with someone else who wouldn’t let him care for her. This was supposed to be a vacation.

“Fine, if that’s what you want.” He grabbed his trousers and shirt from the floor and yanked them on. He hurriedly packed, shoving stuff in his bag wherever it would fit, deliberately not looking at her as she sat against the headboard, both of her knees drawn up to her chest and resting her cheek against them, staring out the window. He made a final sweep through the room to make sure he had everything. “It was nice knowing you, Wren. Thanks for five wonderful days. I’ll settle up the bill on the way out.”

She didn’t look at him. He let the door slam shut behind him as he left.


	9. Chapter Eight

Ben settled into the airplane seat with a sigh. He had spent the last three days travelling by himself, and though he had enjoyed not being answerable to anyone else and not on a timetable of any sort, he had found himself looking for a familiar cascade of blue hair out of the corner of his eye more times than he wanted to admit. He’d eaten at roadside stands and turned down tiny streets out of curiosity that he wouldn’t have before and had been welcomed to a family supper and a birthday party for an eight year old girl. The song they had taught him for the piñata still echoed in his ears. Dale dale dale. She had changed him in just a few short days, and he regretted that he hadn’t been able to help her more, but he wasn’t going to get himself into another lop-sided relationship.

The flight attendant dropped off his drink and he got out his Kindle and put it in the seat next to him. He was rooting through his bag looking for the earbuds to his iPod when a sunset striped skirt in the aisle caught his attention. He looked up as the woman sat in the seat across the aisle from him. She had chestnut brown hair that shimmered with little hints of red in the light. He’d never seen the hair before, but he recognized the woman.

“Wren.”

She looked over in surprise. “Benedict.” She clutched at the pendant hanging on the long beaded chain around her neck. “What are you doing here?”

“Flying home.”

“You live in London?”

He nodded.

“But,” he could see her searching for words, “you’re an actor.”

“And?”

“I just…I figured you lived in LA. Or maybe New York.”

He shook his head. “Why are  _you_  going to London?”

“That’s where my next job is.”

“There aren’t enough plumbers in London already?”

“I got hired as a consultant for the EBRD.” At his blank look, she continued, “The European Bank for Reconstruction and Development.”

“As a plumber.”

She looked down for a second as she smiled at his skepticism. “I design and install water systems in less-developed countries powered by locally appropriate energy sources.”

His brows rose. “That’s a bit more than a plumber.”

“I said I was a glorified plumber.”

Ben patted the spot next to him. “Come sit with me.”

“That’s not my seat.”

“I always buy two so I don’t have to sit next to someone I don’t want to.”

“And you want to sit next to me? Even after…” her voice trailed off.

He grinned, his nose wrinkling and lines showing at the corner of his eyes. “Yeah, come on.” He gestured with his head for her to move over. She gathered her carryon and moved over to join him.

She was settling in to the chair when a flight attendant approached. “I’m sorry, Mr. Cumberbatch. I normally wouldn’t do this but I’m a huge fan, and I was wondering if I could get an autograph?”

Ben smiled graciously, “Of course. What’s your name, dear?”

He shot a quick grin to Nata as he signed the magazine the attendant had handed him. She had folded it back so that he was signing over the picture of him that accompanied the article about him.

“So,” Wren asked when the attendant had left, “a bit famous, eh?”

Ben laughed. “Yeah, a bit.”

“Does that get old?”

“Sometimes. But I remind myself that it wasn’t for the fans I would be a barrister or something else mundane now.” He wrapped a lock of her hair around one of his fingers. “I like this. It suits you.”

She smiled wryly. “I didn’t feel  like being the blue haired side kick anymore after I made you leave.”

“I really do think you’re beautiful. Even more so now.”

She turned sideways in her chair so she was facing him, drawing her knees up to her chest under her skirt. “I missed travelling with you. I found this little place that made fried scallop tacos. They were divine.”

“I got assaulted by a spider monkey. It decided it wanted to leave with me and got its fingers into my hair and wouldn’t let go. I kept expecting to hear your laughter.”

“Oh  _please_  tell me someone got pictures of that.”

He grinned at the laughter running through her voice. “I don’t think so. You might be able to find some bald spots still, if you check.”

She touched his hair, letting one of his wild curls twine around her finger. “So,” her voice was serious and quiet, “you live in London.”

He nodded. “Does that make a difference?” Their heads were leaning against their seats, but their bodies were inclined towards each other.

“Mama is so mad at me.”

“You told her?”

She nodded. “She picked me up from the bus station when I got back to Merida. She told me I wasn’t allowed to cry because it was my own damn fault for pushing another man away. She has this strange idea that it isn’t fair to judge everyone based on what people in my past did. ‘Little Bird,’ she said, ‘your parents may have been bad parents, but now you have me. Am I a bad parent? Well, not all men are like Freddy. There are good men. I married a good man. My sons are good men. Stop punishing people for what they didn’t do.’”

“I think I like Mama.” A smile played around his mouth.

“And then for the next two days she would just smack me in the back of the head at random intervals and yell, “No crying!” I finally told her I wasn’t crying and she said, ‘Well, somebody else is crying. So I will punish you.’ I told her that wasn’t fair and she just looked at me. That look that she’s perfected on six children and now is leveling at grandchildren.”

“Yes, my mother has that look.”

“Is that a common look for mothers?”

“Didn’t your mum ever…ah, right.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Sorry.”

She fiddled with the ring on her middle finger, twisting it around in circles. “Sometimes I think Mama worries about me more than her other six together. I wonder what it would be like to grow up in a family that actually cared about each other.” She sniffed and tossed her head back. “I sound so maudlin.”

“You’ve had a tough life. Tougher than anyone should have definitely. “

The attendant came and asked them to stow their items for takeoff and to fasten their seatbelts.

Ben shook his head in amusement. “You never actually sit, do you?”

Wren looked down at her crossed legs. “I’ve never really noticed.”

“Even in the truck, you either had your feet in my lap or out the window, or would sit cross-legged.”

She shrugged. “If you say so.”

“So, does it make a difference that I live in London?” He brought her back to the topic.

“Maybe?” She looked at him out of the corner of her eyes. “I’m not expecting to be your girlfriend or anything, but, if you want to show me around I wouldn’t turn you down.”

“And if I asked you out on an actual date?”

She took a deep breath and let it out. Ben could hear her shaky exhale. “I promised Mama I would actually go on first dates with anyone who asked that wasn’t creepy.”

“Am I creepy?”

She looked at him with a smile fighting to appear. “No, you’re pretty far from creepy.”

The attendant was going through the safety instructions in the background.

“Does that mean you’ll let me take you out on a date?”

She took a deep breath. “Yes.”

He smiled.

“It doesn’t mean you’re getting any frisky time,” she waved a finger at him, “but I’ll let you take me out to dinner or whatever.”

“That’s all I’m asking. I like you, Nata, but I’m not going to fight to be in your life if you don’t want me there.”

She nodded. “I like you a lot. Like, a lot a lot. I know it’s not quite Keats or Yeats,” she pronounced the names as if they rhymed, “or whoever it was that you recited that day, but I do. And frankly it scares me. Five days and I cried like a little girl when you left.  But I’m so used to shoving men away that I don’t know how to do the whole relationship thing.”

He held out his hand to her. “Are you willing to try?”

She put her hand over his and let her fingers curl in between his to hold his hand. “Yes. Scared, but I’m going to try, if for no other reason than to get Mama to stop smacking me upside the head when I go home.”

He smiled. “Hopefully I can give you a few more pleasant reasons to keep trying.”

“I can’t promise you anything.”

“I know. And I can’t promise endless patience. And I can’t promise you that we’ll work out. But I’d like to give it a try. I’ve missed holding you the last few nights.”

“I’ve missed being held. I’ve missed that little noise you make when you shift positions in your sleep.”

“I don’t make noises in my sleep.”

She giggled. “Yes, you do.”

He looked at her for a long moment, until she looked away, uncomfortable. “What do you think the odds were of us meeting up again?”

She looked back at him. “I was supposed to fly out yesterday, but they oversold my plane. They offered me an upgrade to first class and a voucher if I would change my flight to today.”

The engines whined as they taxied down the runway. She squeezed his hand tightly.

“You afraid of flying?”

She shook her head. “Just takeoffs. It seems crazy to just run down the runway and throw yourself into the air and hope that it will catch you.”

He rubbed his thumb soothingly over the back of her hand as they picked up speed, the vibration of the wheels on the tarmac resonating through their chairs. Then there was the breathless leap against the embrace of gravity and the quiet of flight surrounded them as the air buoyed them up


	10. Chapter Nine

Benedict looked around the sparsely furnished flat. “You weren’t kidding when you said you travel light.”

“It has a flush toilet, hot water and electricity. That’s better than where I’ve spent most of my life for the last several years.”

“This must seem like paradise to you, then.” The small studio consisted of a tiny kitchen with a table big enough for two, a small seating area with a sofa and chair, and a sleeping area, partially separated from the main room by hot pink folding screens.  “I know you aren’t really big into mementos, but I thought as a housewarming gift it would be okay.” He held out a small bag to her.

She took the bag from him with a frown and curled up in the chair to open it. She pulled out a framed photo of the two of them with a manatee. They had spent an afternoon snorkeling and the local manatees had been very friendly. The tour guide had taken pictures of the two of them, both with their mask lines still evident on their face, though they had shoved the masks up into their dripping hair, laughing after trying to impersonate a manatee. The animal seemed completely oblivious to the humans touching hands over his back and laughing.

Wren laughed. “Your manatee impersonation was horrible. I thought an actor would be better at things like that.”

Ben sat on the sofa. “Well, yours was complete rubbish as well. You were much better at the flamingo.”

“That’s true. Though your dolphin calls were rather superb.”

He made the high pitched clicking call and she jumped in surprise before she started laughing. “I was  _not_ expecting that.”

She could feel something else in the bag and reached in to pull out a copy of  _Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy._ She looked up at him, her eyebrows rising in a question.

“If you want to understand British culture, that’s about the perfect place to start. And then you watch Doctor Who and learn to make a decent cup of tea and you’ll be fine.”

“I don’t like tea.”

His jaw dropped in horror, as if she had just urinated on the queen.

“What do you mean you don’t like tea?”

“I don’t like tea. It all tastes like lawn clippings or fruit punch.”

“Maybe you haven’t had it made right.”

She sat up straighter in her chair. “Maybe I’m allowed to not like things you like.”

Ben sat back and held up his hands in surrender. “Fair enough, but if you tell anyone else of this, they may revoke your visa.”

“I’ll take that under advisement.”

They fell into an awkward silence. “It’s good to see you again,” Ben finally said. They had parted before they got off the airplane after discussing the likelihood of Ben being recognized at Heathrow and whether or not she wanted to be subjected to that. She had decided not to deal with the potential fans and had kissed him on the cheek before deplaning several passengers after him. She had seen him once in the airport, signing autographs, and he smiled when he saw her, but made no other sign of recognition. The last few days had been hectic with her settling in and this was this first time since then that they had seen each other.

“Yes. It’s good to see you too.” She looked around her little apartment. “What did you want to do this evening?”

“If you feel like braving the potential cameras, I thought I would take you to dinner. Maybe go stroll along the river and I can name all the important landmarks for you so you don’t get lost.”

“That sounds like a lovely plan.”

They were in the cab when Benedict said, “I think I’ve got a better idea.”

She watched as he pulled out his cell phone and scrolled through his contacts before calling someone. “Rob, its Ben. Could I borrow your roof this evening?”

When he ended the call after a minute more of chatting, Wren asked, “You’re borrowing a roof?”

“I thought you might be more relaxed with a bit more privacy.”

“I wasn’t nervous.”

Ben stroked his hand along her neck, and she sighed. “You’re trying so hard to make a go at this. Let me make it as easy as possible for you, please?”

Her eyes closed as he found a knot in her muscles and gently worked out the tension. “See, I fully expect this not to work out, so I’m steeling myself for the moment when you realize you’re wasting your time. The whole ‘watching it play out in the international media’ aspect just adds an extra soupçon of dread to the prospect.”

Ben slid across the seat and bent his mouth to her ear. “Nata, someday I hope you can see yourself the way I see you. I think it might change your life.”

Nata leaned into him and he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. She relaxed into him and he pressed a kiss to her hair. She made no move to talk, and Ben let her remain silent. He had a feeling that nothing he could say would make a difference, so he was just going to have to show her he meant what he said.

The cab pulled over in front of a tiny hole-in-the-wall restaurant. Ben paid the cabbie and then led her inside the small storefront.  It was more of a market than an actual restaurant, and the person behind the counter greeted Ben with familiarity. “Dinner for two?” the man asked, and Ben nodded.

Wren looked around at the little store as Ben went to a cooler and pulled out a six-pack of beer bottles bearing a label she had never seen before.  He found her at the candy display.

“Somehow, I am not surprised this is where I found you.”

She grinned at him. “Best part of travelling is trying all the new candy you’ve never had before. What’s a KinderEgg?”

Ben shook his head in dismay. He handed her the beer and then scooped up half a dozen of the eggs in his large hands. “You need to experience the KinderEgg.”

“Okay.” She smiled and shrugged and followed Ben to the counter where the man who had greeted him had boxed up food for them. Ben paid, and then took her by the hand as he tucked the box of food under his arm.

They walked down the street, Wren looking around at the unfamiliar buildings. “Everything seems so old here. Like there’s a history to each bench and tree.”

“There probably is, especially the closer we get to the City of London.”

“I thought we were in London.”

“Well, we are, but the City of London is the one square mile in the center with all the financial buildings. It’s got St. Paul’s Cathedral, too. A lot of it was destroyed during WWII, but that’s the major historic district, that and its surroundings on the North Bank.”

“Are we on the North Bank?”

“No, we’re on the south. And here,” he opened a glass door leading into an anonymous residential building, “we are.”

The security guard waved at him and walked over to the elevator where he swiped his pass card. Ben punched the top button and the lift silently climbed. The doors opened into a penthouse suite, the wall in front of them giving them a beautiful view of the Thames and the city stretched out in front of them.

“Some roof,” Wren muttered.

“It’s my friend’s flat. He’s out of town right now, and I thought the view might be nice while we eat.” He opened the doors that led out onto a rooftop balcony and Wren walked out to the edge and peered down.

“Yeah, I think I’ll just stay away from the edge.” She turned around to see that Ben had started a fire in the stone hearth.

“Is this your apartment?”

“No, it’s my friend’s flat.”

“Right, flat. And we took the lift, not the elevator.”

“You’ll be sounding like a proper Brit in no time. Why did you think this was mine?”

“It looks exactly like what I imagine a big movie star would have for a house. Outdoor fire place and all.”

“Come on, let’s eat.”

He unpacked the box, setting out fish and chips, a small bottle of malt vinegar, slices of cheesecake, and a dish of roasted caramelized carrots and onions.

“This is an odd grouping of food.”

“Best fish and chips in the city. And Rory insists on you eating your vegetables, so he just gives you some. They’re always delicious though.” He picked out one of the baby carrots and held it out to her. Her breath caught at the familiar sight of him feeding her as she carefully took the carrot from him with her teeth.

She chewed and swallowed. “You’re right. That’s good.”

They started in on their dinner, tearing the fish to pieces with their fingers. “So, what’s the big circle thing?” Wren asked, pointing with her chin at the skyline.

Ben looked out over the river. “That’s the London Eye.”

“I recognize it from the Sherlock opening credits.”

He looked at her in surprise. “You watched Sherlock?”

“The first season.”

“What did you think?”

“That I need to hurry up and get this date over with so I can go watch the next season. Leave it on a cliff-hanger like that.”

“If you think that one is bad, just wait until you get to the end of series two.” Ben chuckled mischievously. He wasn’t used to anyone watching the early seasons anymore, and he was looking forward to her reactions.

“It really is a brilliant show. I knew I was going to love it when all those ‘wrong’s popped up on the screen. The guy they have playing the lead isn’t bad either. Cute, knows his way around a riding crop, bit of a jerk though. And for a supposed genius, he has a remarkable amount of trouble buying the right size shirt. I could practically hear those buttons screaming for mercy.”

“You think I’m cute?”

She laughed. “No, I think you’re gorgeous. I much prefer you ginger and shaggy to Sherlock’s curls. They make him a bit too delicate looking.”

They ate their dinner as Ben pointed out the various objects on the skyline, telling stories about London history and personal anecdotes. He skipped over the London Eye, firmly attached in his memory to Annie, not wanting to invite that ghost to accompany him on this date.

“I’ve never lived in a city this big. I am going to get lost all the time.”

“You’ll figure it out. The nice thing about London compared to a lot of big cities and their major urban areas is that it has a lot of easily recognizable landmarks.”

“Of course, I will miss the stars.”

“The stars?”

“Yeah, look up.” She looked up at the sky over them. “See? No stars. Too much light pollution.”

He looked up and then looked back at her. “It’s overcast.”

“Is it?” she sounded surprised and looked back up at the sky.

He pointed to where the glow of the moon illuminated the cloud in front of it. She followed the line of his arm and started laughing. She looked back at him abashedly. “I swear, even when there’s not clouds you still can’t see many stars.” She put a hand to her face in embarrassment.

“I believe you.” He tugged her hand down gently. “Don’t hide from me.”

“You must think me an idiot.”

“I think the clouds were just trying to emphasize your point,” he said cheerily.

She shook her head, but smiled, especially when he didn’t let go of her hand.

“Tell me, how did you go from living in foster care to consulting for the European whatever Bank?”

Wren shrugged. “Not a really exciting story. Grandma died from emphysema, my parents weren’t capable of taking me back, so I ended up in care. I was pretty much sick of anything that involved adults telling me what to do so I dropped out of high school, got my GED, and then went to trade school. Learned how to be a plumber. I figured there is always need for plumbers, so I would always be able to take care of myself, provide for myself and not have to worry about someone else dying or getting stoned, you know?”

“That’s why my smoking bothers you so much, isn’t it? Your grandmother died from it?”

She nodded. “Dying and still smoking two packs a day, knowing I had nowhere to go when she died.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, after my parents, I guess I shouldn’t have been too surprised, right?” She sighed in disgust. “She did at least one thing good. Grandma was religious. She made me go on this church mission trip to Mexico when I was fourteen. That’s where I met Rosa. We became pen pals and stayed in touch ever since. She’s the closest thing to a sister I will ever have. So when I turned eighteen, I got my passport, packed my few belongings and my tools into my little van, and off to Mérida I went. Never looked back.”

“And so you’ve been travelling the world since then?”

“Not really. Mama sat me down and told me that I was welcome to stay with them as long as I wanted, but she insisted that I attend university. She said every person today owes it to themselves to be as educated as possible, so they have as many opportunities as possible. So I went to school and studied civil engineering. My thought was that hydraulic engineering is just plumbing on a really big scale. I did an internship putting in a well system in the Chiapas region, and realized how many people need clean water and sewage, and got hooked. And, well, here I am.”

“So, you’re providing potable water to the world.”

She shrugged her shoulders, looking embarrassed by the admiration in his voice. “Nah, I just build stuff.”

Ben squeezed her hand. “You sell yourself short in so many ways.”

“I should probably go. I have an early morning meeting tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Ben was surprised by the sudden end to the evening. “Of course.”

They cleaned up the remains of their dinner in silence. In the cab on the way back to Wren’s flat, Ben sat with his arm around her shoulder, her body stiff and unyielding. She slowly relaxed into him, finally ending up with her head on his shoulder and her hand on his thigh. Ben could tell she was having an internal argument, slight head movements accompanying the different voices. He had no idea who was winning, until she looked up at him and said, “Kiss me?”

In the passing headlamps, he could see the trepidation in her eyes, fear that she had already messed up by ending their dinner, worry that he would decide she wasn’t worth his patience. He paused, his mouth an inch from hers and brought his hand up to cradle her face, letting her feel his gentle strength. Her eyes stared into his, looking for anger or irritation, but all she could see was caring and affection before he closed the distance between their lips and she closed her eyes.

It was unlike any other kiss she had received in the backseat of a car. He was tender and slow, lips moving with hers, not trying to claim or possess or force, but to join and please. She could concentrate on all the little touches, his nose against hers, his fingers slowly working their way into her hair, the pillowy feel of his bottom lip against the tip of her tongue. He smelled of vetiver and blood oranges and tasted of honey and malt and milk chocolate. The arm that he had around her shoulders moved so that he was holding her face between both of his hands and she found herself twisting in the seat to get closer to him, wanting to feel his curls between her fingers again. She sank her hands into his hair and moaned softly, and as she pressed against him, she heard a deep rumble in his chest, a noise that vibrated more than sounded.

And then the cabbie announced they were at her flat.

“Do you want to come up?”

“Are you ready for me to come up?”

She hesitated, remembering their last night in Mexico together, the onslaught of emotions that she had felt that had led her to kicking to him out, and nodded slowly. “I want to try."


	11. Chapter Ten

Wren put the leftover food from dinner in the refrigerator. As she shut the door, Ben brushed her hair from the back of her neck and kissed the sensitive skin. She moaned softly in appreciation, her eyes falling shut. He slowly kissed his way up to her hairline and then started working his way up to her ear. She let her head fall back against his shoulder as the little bubbly shivers raced through her body. She bit her bottom lip as he licked at the soft skin at the bottom of her ear, and reached up her hand to run it through his mop of shaggy curls. She felt his teeth scrape against her earlobe and moaned again, a little louder. He shifted her head as he reached over her shoulder and slipped his hand inside the deep vee neckline of her short dress and then inside her bra. She arced helplessly as he squeezed her breast.

“No, sugar, don’t move away. I want your body pressed against mine.” He murmured the words as his other hand slid over her stomach and then started pulling up her skirt. He leaned back against the kitchen wall and pulled her with him, making her lean against the length of his body. He nipped at her neck as he cupped her through her panties. “I’m going to make you come just like this, just my fingers and my mouth.”

He didn’t wait for her to agree. He just went back to kissing her neck as he trapped her nipple between two of his fingers, teasing it with the slide of his fingers as he squeezed her breast. His words had heated the air in her lungs to scorching, making it hard to breathe, and then as her nipple hardened under his touch, she couldn’t manage to fill her lungs, instead panting for what she needed. Benedict started to rub his hand over her knickers in time with the movements of his other hand. His touch was teasingly light and she pressed against his hand.

“Stop teasing me, you git!”

The feel of him laughing against her skin sent shivers down her spine. “You’re settling in quite nicely if you can yell at me during sex in British slang, sugar.” He pressed his fingers against her harder, pushing the silk of her panties between her folds. “Is that better, sugar?”

She made a sound of delight. “I’ll take it that’s a yes.” He stroked the broad tip of his middle finger up and down the silk, feeling her dampen the fabric. He circled her clit a few times as he pinched her nipple and then went back to stroking her slit. Nata pressed her hand over his and dragged his finger back to her clit. “Right there,” she whimpered, rocking her hips upward.

They moved their hands in time together, Nata’s over Ben’s, as she showed him exactly how to touch her. “Are you going to teach me how to make you come, Nata?” he whispered against her ear. She nodded, unwilling to divert the energy to her mouth to actually talk.

He hummed in delight. “In that case, why don’t we get this pesky fabric out of the way.” He tugged at one hip of her knickers and Nata pulled at the other. Together they managed to get them down far enough that she could shimmy them the rest of the way down and kick them off. “Nata, the way you wriggle your ass against me makes me want to just bend you over the counter and fuck you right here.” Instead of doing that, he cupped her again, this time letting two of his fingers slip between her wet folds and start rubbing gentle circles over her clit. Nata placed her hand over his and he nipped at her neck. “Put your hands behind my head.”

“What?”

“Hold your hands together behind my head.” He bit a little harder at her throat and she did what he said. The new position arched her breasts forward and pushed her hips back against his. “Let me give you this.” He circled her opening with a finger, drawing out more of her response and then sliding back up to circle her clit. Nata circled her hips against his finger, and Ben matched the speed she set. He didn’t want her getting frustrated; not tonight. There would be time, if he played this right, for that and all sorts of other games later.

He read her body like a script, knowing just when to pause and when to hit a line with a bit more emphasis. Her nipple was hard between his fingers and he squeezed it a bit harder, watching the sensation send a ripple down her stomach. He followed the stage directions of her hips and slipped a finger inside her. Her arms tightened around his neck and she gasped his name.

“That’s right, sugar. I’m right here.” He closed his eyes and the sweet feel of her around his finger. She was scalding hot and tight, and he rubbed against her until he found that spot he was looking for.

“Fuck!”

“That’s right, right there,” he rubbed it again and her hips jerked forward like she had been jolted with an electrical charge. “You like that, don’t you, baby?”

“Yes,” she gasped.

“Good,” he purred against her throat, tracing the line of her neck with his tongue, tasting the faint hint of salt. “What about this?” He pushed another finger in with the first, and she groaned, her arms jerking in surprise. “You like this, sugar?”

She nodded.

“Mmm, good darling, because I love the feel of my fingers in your pussy.” His voice brushed against her skin like sueded silk. He nestled the palm of his hand against her clit and began to rub circles against it as he pumped his fingers in and out of her, stroking that special spot with every thrust. He scraped his nails against the side of her breast and then tugged at her nipple as he scissored his fingers open inside her.

She swore again, a little whispered ‘fuck’ as she rubbed helplessly against his hand. Her breaths turned into his name, a chanted mantra of ‘Ben, Ben, Ben’ in time with his fingers.

“Kiss me,” he ordered, and she turned her face, closed-eyed, towards him. He captured her mouth and sucked her tongue, scraping his teeth against it, and she shook, a little preliminary quake, premonition for the one that was bearing down on her. “Come for me, Nata,” he whispered against her mouth. He bit at her bottom lip and tugged it as he tugged her nipple and she cried out. Her thighs turned to steel around his hand, as she clenched around his fingers, once, twice and again, screaming his name into his mouth.

He held her until she relaxed and her breathing resumed a semblance of normality. He loosened his grip on her and she let her arms fall limp to her sides.

“I’m very glad I invited you up.”

Ben laughed. “I’m just getting started, sugar.”

“Why the new nickname all of a sudden?” She turned in his arms so she was facing him.

He kissed her tenderly. “Because that’s how I think you taste, but I plan on finding out for sure tonight.” He full lips stretched into an impish grin and she rolled her eyes, shaking her head in amusement.

“You are such a fourteen year old boy at heart.”

“That’s generous. I always thought I was a twelve year old at heart.” He pushed himself off of the wall. “I’m serious though, I’m not even close to being done with you.”

Nata couldn’t help but smile as bit his bottom lip in anticipation. She linked her fingers through his. “Well, come on, then.”

A few steps later and they were next to her bed. A few seconds after that and she stood naked in front of him, and he was down to his boxer briefs. She looked at him, suddenly shy and he nudged her backwards so the bed hit the back of her knees and sat down on the edge of the bed. He knelt in between her feet.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to. Just lay back.” He laughed. “And think of England.”

She snorted in amusement. “Really? You went there?”

“That’s not the only place I’m going to go.” He ran his hands up her thighs, spreading them apart and leaned forward to kiss her. He then wrapped his arms under her knees and pulled forward so she fell back against the bed. “Now relax.”

He licked first one hipbone and then the other, long strokes of his broad flat tongue against her warm skin. She was still up on her elbows watching as he kissed the inside of her thigh, right up against her most sensitive skin. He licked her wetness from her folds and she moaned and fell back on the bed. He smiled as she succumbed to him and hooked her legs over his shoulders, pulling her right up to the edge of the bed.

He licked her softly at first, teasing little strokes that set her hips to rocking, trying to get him to press harder.

“I swear I’m going to pull your hair if you don’t stop being such a tease.”

He chuckled, the sound deep and resonant against her skin. “Such a demanding little thing you are.” He knew it was a defense mechanism; her way of exerting her control over the situation. He pressed his tongue between her lips, seeking out her clit with the tip of his tongue. She gasped when he found it and he lapped at it, over and over, slowly exerting more pressure until he sucked it into his mouth.

 _She may be a demanding little thing, but she’s a responsive little thing, too,_  he thought, as she ground against him. He wrapped his arms around her thighs and grabbed her hips, holding her down as he started to tease the sweet little bud with the tip of his tongue. He was right; she tasted like carmelized sugar and the salt-rimmed papaya margaritas they had shared in Mexico. He slipped his tongue inside her, lapping more of her sweet honey and watching with satisfaction as her back arched up off the bed, her breasts beautifully silhouetted against the light behind her. He sucked her clit back into his mouth, rubbing the bottom of it with his tongue as he slipped a finger inside her. She was already buzzing from her last orgasm and it didn’t take long until her could feel the muscles under his fingers start tensing.

“Ben,” she cried as he teased her clit with his teeth. He crooked his finger inside her, finding her g-spot and rubbing it as he drew quick circles with his tongue. Her heels dug into his back as she sought for purchase, rocking her hips helplessly against his mouth.

“Please!” It was a broken whimper, begging him, needing him; finally she needed him, she was acknowledging that she needed him. He stopped holding back and slipped a second finger inside her slick heat while he sped his tongue’s worship of her clit. It didn’t take much longer and she was arching off the bed, the back of her head the only thing left in contact with the duvet as she slicked his fingers and chin.

Ben stroked her hip and thigh as she relaxed and then reached for his jeans. He got a condom out from his wallet and tossed it on the bed. “I remembered one this time.” Nata scooted back on the bed as she watched him shuck off his pants and then he climbed on the bed with her. He stretched out over her, resting his weight on his elbows. He stroked her hair back as he silently looked her in the eyes. She looked away and then back at him.

“What are you looking at me like that?” Her normal brashness was gone, replaced with tentative shyness.

“Like what, sugar?”

“Like you think I’m the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen.”

“Because I do.” He bent and kissed her, using all of his training and all of his heart to convey what he felt to her. This move of the lips meant  _you make me laugh_ and this flick of the tongue means  _I’m sorry we ever fought and I will always regret those days we didn’t have together in Mexico_ and that scrape of teeth along the curve of your lip means  _I want to know what temperature you like your shower and your favorite flavor of ice cream and what songs you can’t help but sing along with at the top of your lungs._  They kissed as he poured out everything he wanted to tell her but she wasn’t comfortable hearing in words yet. Eventually, they broke apart long enough for him to put on the condom and then they slowly made love. There were no words spoken, but Ben knew she understood what he was saying to her as tears slowly trickled from the corners of her eyes. He kissed them away and watched her shell crack. It didn’t fall completely off, but it would be enough that the little bird inside could kick her way out, a piece at a time. Her arms tightened around his back and her feet dug into his arse.

All good things eventually come to an end, and even this slow sweet interlude eventually gave way to a more demanding pace. He moved his elbows from either side of her head to under her knees and their motions together went from languid and gentle to hungry and demanding. Nata pressed two of her fingers into Ben’s mouth and he suckled them, laving them individually with his tongue. She pulled them away and started rubbing her clit, her other hand going to the breast that Ben hadn’t played with earlier.

Ben watched as she shattered underneath him, sobbing his name. Her fragile beauty took him with her and they exploded together, her clenching body igniting his final few grunting thrusts into an explosion of light that left him momentarily deaf and blind.

A few minutes later when they were quietly laying together, Wren said, “I guess if we’re going to do this regularly, I should probably go on the pill.”

Ben looked down at her head, resting on his chest over his heart. He wondered how long it would be before she could look at him while having personal conversations. “If you want to. I know a lot of women don’t like the side effects.”

“Are you going to want to do this regularly?”

He wrapped her hair around his fingers and gently maneuvered her so that he could kiss her without breaking either of their necks. “Yes,” he finally said.

She smiled, the faintest glisten of tears in her eyes. “Me too.”


	12. Chapter Eleven

The dim lights and jazz music in the background provided a perfect atmosphere for a romantic date. Benedict and Wren were cozied together in a booth, giggling face to face over something that would only be funny to the slightly inebriated that are flush in the warmth of a new romance when the couple walking by in the aisle stopped suddenly.

“What the fuck are you doing here? This is my patch.”

Benedict didn’t look away from Wren. “Hello, Martin.”

Wren looked up and her eyes widened. “That’s Watson,” she whispered, much louder than she thought, thanks to the alcohol warming her blood.

Martin guffawed and Amanda said, “Hi, I’m Mary.”

“Hi, Mary. I’m Nata.”

Ben sat back, looking at Nata in surprise. He then said, “Her name’s Amanda.” He turned to Amanda. “She hasn’t gotten to series three yet.”

Martin helped himself to a seat on the other side of the booth. “You haven’t seen series three? Where you been for the last five years? A fucking jungle?”

“Bolivia actually.”

“That’s why we’re here actually,” Ben said. “We’re going to get completely sloshed and then go watch Reichenbach.”

“Oh god,” Amanda said, her face contracting in horrified concern. “Let me order you another round.”

She gestured for the waiter and Nata looked at Ben. “Is it really going to be that bad?”

Ben didn’t say anything but Amanda nodded sadly.

“What, do you die or something?”

Martin started laughing again and Amanda fought back a round of giggles. “Nata, darling, just be glad you won’t have to wait for series three. There was a two year gap between series when they originally aired them and people about went loony trying to figure out the cliffhanger.”

Nata looked up at Ben in concern. “Do you have season three?”

“Yes. I have all of them.” His smile was reassuring, causing a shiver to dance down Nata’s spine.

“Yeah, I guess you would.” She smiled back at him, the giggles from earlier making a reappearance and Ben kissed her. It was just a light kiss but the way they both melted into made time freeze and lungs stop.

Martin coughed. “How long have you two known each other?”

Nata pulled back from Ben with a slight blush painting across her cheeks. Ben looked at her. “How long’s it been now? We got back about two weeks ago, so under a month, I guess.” Nata nodded.

“Back from where?” Amanda asked.

“Mexico. It’s where we met.” Nata giggled. “He kept ogling my ass.”

“Well, it is a beautiful arse. It’s like a piece of art. And you’re the one who insisted on being your hands and knees in front of me for hours.” It was impossible for him to keep his face more than a few inches from hers.

“Was this some sort of kinky sex vacation?”

Nata laughed. “No, we were spelunking.”

“That sounds like kinky sex,” Martin replied.

“It’s cave exploring.”

“Still sounds like kinky sex,” Martin insisted.

Nata threw up her hands and laughed. “I give up.”

Amanda smiled in sympathy. “Don’t worry. That’s a normal reaction to dealing with Martin. I’m not sure how I’ve lasted so long.”

“It’s because you’re bloody perfect and you love me.”

“That is true. I am perfect.” She made a perfect Betty Boop face of adorability.

Nata relaxed back into Ben’s shoulder as the conversation continued. Martin and Amanda were adorable and loud and hysterically funny, Ben kept his arm around her shoulders and absentmindedly brushed his fingers against her upper arm while they all conversed.

“So, you guys are serious about each other, yeah?” Amanda finally asked.

Nata looked up at Ben, who was smiling down at her. “Yeah, I think we are.” Ben nodded slightly, his smile softening into a deeper, more intimate gaze. “Yeah, I think we are, too.”

“Well, good,” Martin said, “because I haven’t seen Ben this happy since… well, in a long time.”

“It’s okay, I know about Annie.”

“And you’re not in love with anyone else?” Martin asked.

“No.”

“Good. Because I’d kick your ass if you were dicking him around.”

“Martin!” Amanda smacked him on the forearm.

“What? I’m serious. He hasn’t been the same since Annie crushed his heart into dust, and I’ll be fucked if I’m going to sit here and let someone else do the same thing to him.”

“It’s nice of you to be so concerned, Martin,” Ben said, “but Nata is not Annie. If we don’t work out, it won’t be because I’m hung up on Annie, or because Nata is Annie part two. We’ll screw it up for our own delightfully unique reasons.”

Nata nudged Ben. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go use whatever it is you call the bathroom here.”

Ben laughed and stood and helped to her feet, making sure she had her balance before he let her go. He kissed the tip of her nose and then sat back down.

Martin shook his head. “You’re actually happy, man. I haven’t seen you like this in years.”

“I know. She’s wonderful.”

“Are you sure you aren’t rushing into things? I mean, she had never even heard of you a month ago, and what do you really know about her?”

Ben sat back, surprised at Martin’s skepticism. “Aren’t you the one who’s been pushing me to get out there and get on with my life? And now that I have you’re telling me I’m rushing into things?”

“I just don’t want you getting hurt again and this doesn’t seem like you. You’ve always been so private about your personal life and now you’re out in a restaurant, drunk, making out with some chickie you barely know who latched onto you as a vacation fling and is trying to turn it into something more.”

Amanda could see the anger mounting in Ben’s eyes and the way his knuckles were turning white around his tumbler of whiskey. “Martin, I think you need to stop.”

Ben took a swallow of his drink before carefully setting the glass back down on the table. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Martin.”

“Yeah? Prove it. What do you know about her? Or have you gotten to learning anything about her between the fuck fests you two are so obviously having?”

Ben leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, and started counting off the things he knew about her on his fingers. “She grew up in foster care because her parents thought being potheads was more important than being parents. She got her GED and then got her plumbing license. She moved to Mexico and put herself through university. She’s spent the last eight years working in underdeveloped countries putting in sewage and water systems that run on local renewable energy. She’s now a consultant for the European Bank for Reconstruction and Development. She didn’t know I lived in London, and I thought she lived in America. We never had sex on vacation, and I had to beg her to date me. Even though she’s an international expert, she thinks she’s dumb because she never graduated high school, so she has a word of the day calendar to help her improve her vocabulary, and she keeps the old pages to practice. She has a dictionary bookmarked on her laptop so she can look up words so she knows how to pronounce them because she’s never heard them used. She speaks four languages fluently. She hates to text, but she keeps the toys from Kindereggs and writes them thought bubbles from index cards and sends me photo messages of them because she knows I love to check in during the day. She’s had a hard life but she takes the opportunity to enjoy every minute, and she’s teaching me to do that too. So fuck the press. I’m going to stop worrying about getting photographed and actually enjoy my damn life and if that means kissing my girlfriend in a restaurant than I will, because maybe it won’t work, but it sure as hell won’t if I’m more worried about how I look than her happiness.”

He sighed and sat back, raking a hand through his curls. He ran a finger around the edge of his glass and said quietly, “Have you ever been shown wabi-sabi on your trips to Japan?”

Martin shook his head, feeling rebuked for his earlier comments.

“It’s this idea of finding beauty in imperfection. It’s most famous with pottery. They’ll take a broken teapot and repair it with gold or silver in the cracks, highlighting the brokenness but also making it the most beautiful part of the object. Well, she’s the gold in my cracks, Martin, and I’m the silver in hers.”

Martin smiled. “That’s so fucking precious it makes me want to vomit.”

Ben burst out in laughter, loud enough that heads turned to see what was so funny.

Nata came back to the table and Ben stood. “I think we should go or we’re going to pass out before we get through the opening credits.”

“Good idea. Martin, Amanda, it was lovely to meet you.”

“You too, Nata,” Amanda said with a smile.

Martin pointed at his eyes with two fingers and then pointed them at her. Nata laughed. “Martin, I could drop you in a sewage pit in Kyrgystan and no one would ever know the difference.” She winked and grinned and Martin laughed.

“I guess she’ll keep you in line, Ben.”

“Yeah, she does. I’m even giving up smoking.”

“You are?” Amanda was shocked. She’d twitted him about it for years.

“Yes. Nata doesn’t like it. It’s been three days since my last one.” He looked at her and her smile for him was beatific. She wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down for a gentle kiss.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Piggy back ride?”

She nodded and he turned around.

Martin and Amanda watched the two of them leave with bemused expressions.

“You realize he left us with the bill,” Martin said after a long moment.

“Yes. And you deserve it, you little shit.”

“I know.” There was silence for several seconds. “He’s in love with her.”

“Yes, he is.”

“God, I hope this doesn’t blow up in his face.”

***

Ben looked down at Nata. She was resting her head on his thigh as they watched the end of “The Reichenbach Fall.” He stroked her long hair soothingly as she cried, but when his face showed up on screen, she screamed in surprise.

“You asshole!” She slapped him in the arm. “How could you let John think you were dead?” She slapped him again.

“I had to protect him!”

“Jerk.”

He laughed as she curled up at the other end of the couch, looked at him in disgust, and then whispered, “Molly should smack you with that riding crop.”

Ben laughed. “You ready for bed, sugar?”

“Bed? Are you kidding? Put in season three. I’m not sleeping until somebody on that show punches you in the face.”


	13. Chapter Twelve

Renata looked at herself in the mirror. “You realize these earrings could pay for a potable water system for a medium sized village.”

“Yes, but considering they’re borrowed, I would really appreciate it if you didn’t pawn them for that purpose.”

Renata’s eyes moved from the reflection of the diamond earrings in the mirror to the smiling man standing behind her. “Posh friends, lending you sparklies like these.”

Ben placed his hands on her waist and dropped a kiss on her shoulder. “You excited?”

“Does so nervous I want to barf count as excited?”

“You’ll be fine.”

“I think the more important question is if you’re excited?” She turned around and smoothed the lapels of his tuxedo. “Up for two BAFTAs. Big night for you.”

“Four months ago, you didn’t even know what a BAFTA was.”

“Yes, but then I met you three months ago, and I’ve learned lots of things since then.”

“Like what?”

“Well, that I like Kindereggs, and hate Bannoffee pie.”

“Don’t remind me. How can you hate that? It’s delicious.”

“It’s too sweet. Way too sweet.”

“You’re sweet, and I think you’re delicious.”

“Yes. I believe you’ve demonstrated that on multiple occasions.”

He started to nuzzle her neck but she stopped him. “You’re going to mess up my hair, and considering this is my ‘debut’ for lack of a better word, I’d like to look my best.”

“You look beautiful.”

“Yes, well it’s amazing what an Elie Saab gown can do for a girl’s appearance.”

“ _You_  are beautiful.” He turned her by her shoulders so she was facing herself in the mirror again. “Look at you. You are gorgeous.”

“It’s not like it matters. Everyone is going to be staring at you. No one will even notice me standing in your shadow.” She said it to reassure herself even though she had gained enough experience in the last few months to know it was a lie. After the first paparazzi photos of her and Ben had hit the internet, she had learned how quickly people could dig up your entire life history and talk about it in the most appalling terms. Amanda had showed up at her door with a bottle of wine and had given her the ‘welcome to dating a celebrity’ spiel which included the strict rules to never Google yourself, always assume someone is watching and has a camera, and then do whatever the fuck you want anyway. Benedict had walked in to find the two of them tipsy, watching a football match on the telly, and rooting for the players on both teams that had the best hair.

“Ready to go?”

She took a deep breath, smoothed her hair one last time and nodded.

The red carpet wasn’t that bad. The journalists were polite and other than answering questions about who she was wearing she mostly just stood and smiled. It was after she was standing in the foyer of the theatre with a glass of champagne that events took an unsettling turn. Ben had gone back out to shake hands and take photos and she was acting like she was interested in the photos documenting past winners when a woman approached her.

“Excuse me, are you here with Ben?”

She turned to face the stranger, a pretty woman with shoulder length brown hair. “Yes.”

“Hi. I’m Annie.” At the hesitation on Renata’s face, she said, “Ben’s Annie.”

“Oh.”

“How is he? I haven’t seen him bring a date to an event in years. Since I used to go with him, actually.”

“He’s wonderful,” she said with a polite smile. Renata wondered what Annie expected her to say.

“Good.” Annie looked down at her glass of champagne and then back up at Wren. “How does he feel about going up against Tom for Best Actor this evening?”

“I don’t know. He hasn’t really talked about it. There was a time when the two of them would have been sitting side by side and cheering each other on, insisting that the other one deserved the award. Whatever happens now will just be awkward, I suppose.”

Annie sighed. “And I suppose you think that’s my fault.”

Wren shook her head with a gentle smile. “I don’t think about you much at all. You’re not Ben’s Annie anymore. You’re not Ben’s anything anymore, except his past.”

Annie’s eyes narrowed. “Are you warning me to stay away from him?”

“No. I don’t need to warn you. You’re happy with Tom. I’m happy with Ben. I don’t expect either of those things to change. You gave him up, and he’s moved on. That’s the way life works. “

“I am sorry I hurt him.” Annie’s brows rose, searching Wren’s face for her belief.

“I’m sure you are. You’re not an evil person.”

 “Your name is Renata, right? I saw a few pictures of you and Ben together.

Wren laughed. “Yes, I’m sorry. I totally forgot to introduce myself. I sort of feel like no one cares who I am at this thing. Though I’m not sure what pictures you’ve seen. I pretty much ignore all that stuff for my own sanity.”

Annie laughed knowingly. “That’s a good policy. It will make you go crazy if you watch too much of it. And most of it is wrong anyway. Like Ben would date someone who dropped out of school.” She laughed again.

“Um, actually that’s true.”

“Oh.” Annie smoothed her hair back and fiddled with her earring. “I guess it makes sense that he would go for someone so completely different from me now.”

Wren forced herself to remain calm though she could feel the muscles in her neck and jaw tensing. “Completely different how?”

“More… uninhibited? Dancing in the rain at Trafalgar Square. Trying to learn to ride a unicycle at Hampstead Heath with everyone watching. He never gave me a piggy back ride down a London street, I guess is what I am saying.”

Wren blinked a few times. “Did you want him to?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” She shook her head. “That’s just not who we were.”

“You changed him,” Wren said, looking down at her glass of champagne.

“He wasn’t like that from the beginning with me. It had nothing to do with me.”

Wren looked up at Annie, eyes narrowing slightly. Did Annie really think she hadn’t affected Ben? “How long into you two dating did he find out that you were in love with Tom?”

Annie pinched her lips together, anger starting to flare in her eyes. “About three weeks.”

“Well, you didn’t give him much time to be himself before he found out there was a third person in the relationship. It’s hard to be carefree and uninhibited when you know in your heart that the other person loves someone else the way you want them to love you.” Wren forced herself to remain calm. As much as she wanted Annie to understand the full extent of what she had done to Ben, she knew attacking her would just make it seem as if she was a jealous current girlfriend.

Annie leaned in slightly. “So, what, you’re saying I made it impossible for him to be happy with me?”

“I’m sure he found moments of happiness with you. But I know he spent a lot of time worrying that you were going to leave him, which you eventually did. And if you had been more honest with yourself and more courageous with Tom, you could have spared him the years of pain he’s gone through.”

“I told him I was in love with Tom. How much more honest do you want me to be?” Annie’s harsh whisper grated on Wren’s nerves.

Wren leaned in towards Annie. “You told him you were in love with Tom, but you also told Ben loved him and you would marry him. Fish or cut bait, lady!”

“What? I’m afraid I’ve never heard that particular colloquialism.”

“You know us uneducated folks. We like our folksy sayin’s. How about ‘shit or get off the pot.’ You heard that one? You don’t get your cake and get to eat it, too, Annie. I’m glad you and Tom are happy, but the collateral damage you did to the man I love – yes, I love him and he loves me – could have been avoided if you would have just sucked it up and been honest and told Tom what you were feeling.”

Annie glared at Wren. “Ben could have left me at any time.”

“He didn’t because you kept stringing him along,” Wren shot back.

“Fine. I don’t expect you to like me because I’m the ex. But you need to be more careful because you’re an embarrassment to him and you’ll make him a laughing stock in the press if you continue how you are behaving. You may call it uninhibited, but it reads like drunk and disorderly to everyone else.” She stalked off. Wren imagined she could smell the scorched earth and sulfur at her departure.

Wren started to take a drink from her glass of champagne and then stopped and put it down as nervousness flushed her skin. Annie’s words stabbed her like needles all over her skin. The words ‘embarrassment’ and ‘drunk and disorderly’ played on repeat in her head. She looked around the room, wondering how many other people held the same low opinion of her that Annie held. Her punitive internal monologue came to an end as Ben found her. Hand in hand they were escorted to their reserved seats.

“Is everything okay, sugar?”

Ben’s lips brushed against her ear as his deep voice cascaded through her body. Wren nodded and turned to look at him. He had such adoration in his eyes that she smiled, feeling calmer. He didn’t think she was an embarrassment, and his opinion was the one that mattered. “A little nervous about being on national television is all.”

“You’ll be sensational.”

The awards ceremony went by faster than she thought it would. Ben and Tom both won awards, and she remembered to smile when the camera was on Ben. Afterward, they made their way to a party where Tom and Ben bumped into each other on the red carpet. There was a moment of awkward hesitation, and then Ben enveloped Tom in a congratulatory hug. “Congratulations, man. It was completely deserved. Your performance was magnificent.”

Tom laughed and slapped Ben on the back. They held on to each other, both of them leaning back so they could see each other but not willing to relinquish this first gesture of friendship in so many years. “I was so convinced you were going to take it I didn’t even prepare a speech.”

“You couldn’t tell,” Ben said. “You quoted Shakespeare.”

“That’s turning into an old trick. I’m going to have to learn something new to do.”

Wren smiled. “I don’t think it’s an old trick as much as it is a well-deserved classic. There is a reason some works are never forgotten.”

Ben let go of Tom and turned to Wren. “Oh yes, Tom, Annie, this is Wren, my girlfriend.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Wren found herself engulfed in an enthusiastic hug from Tom. “Beautiful and a lover of Shakespeare – Ben could ask for no better.”

Wren laughed. “I don’t know about either of those qualifications, but it is nice to meet you. Congratulations on your award. I watched the film with Ben. I thought you were amazing, and that was before he explained to me exactly why your performance was so brilliant.”

Tom turned to Ben. “You watched it?”

Ben nodded. “It was superb. I knew I had no chance winning against it. It’s an instant classic.”

Tears welled in Tom’s eyes. “Thank you. Coming from you, that means more than you know.”

“We should keep going, we’re blocking traffic,” Annie said quietly.

The couples split up shortly after going into the venue, but not before Annie gave Wren a knowing look when Wren grabbed a glass of champagne from a waiter. Wren nursed that glass the rest of the evening as she stayed quiet and polite at Ben’s side, greeting his friends and colleagues. She was quiet when they got to Ben’s and they had perfunctory celebratory sex. Ben fell asleep quickly, but she laid awake for hours, wondering how many people at the awards tonight were embarrassed for Ben that she was his date.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Wren rolled over and pulled the pillow over her head when Ben’s mobile rang the next morning. She had finally gotten to sleep slightly before dawn and was in no mood to wake up any time soon. Ben nudged her a minute later. “It’s for you.”

She groaned in disappointment but stuck her hand out from under the duvet. “Hello?”

“Renata, this is Annie.”

Wren sat straight up in bed and looked at Ben in a panic. “Annie. Hi.” Ben had an indecipherable expression on his face as he sat on the bed watching her.

“I know this is awkward, but I was wondering if you had plans for lunch today.”

Wren looked at the time on the mobile. 11:14. “No. No plans.”

“Could we have lunch? I think we got off on the wrong foot last night and I’d like to try and make it up to you.”

“Um, sure. Where?”

“Lemonia? At about 1:30? That will give me time to get the baby fed and down for a nap.”

“Sure. I’ll see you there.” She ended the call and looked at Ben. “I’m having lunch with Annie.”

Both of his eyebrows rose in surprise. “Really?”

Wren nodded.

“That’s a bit of a shock. You two barely spoke last night.”

Wren fell back onto the bed and pulled the pillow over her face. “That’s not exactly true,” she muttered.

“What was that?”

Wren lifted a corner of the pillow, whispered, “We talked while you and Tom were out signing autographs,” and then let the pillow hide her again.

Ben pulled the pillow away, even though Wren wrapped both arms around it, trying to keep herself hidden. He leaned over her prone form and kissed her softly. “I am assuming by your hiding that it didn’t go well?”

Wren wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

“What got said?”

She covered her face with her hands. “I may have accused her of stringing you along and she might have said that you were only dating me because you wanted someone completely different from her. And that I was an embarrassment to you.”

“She said what?” The muscles in his shoulders were suddenly much more defined.

Wren stroked her hands against his skin, trying to calm him down. “We both got off on the wrong foot. I don’t think she meant it.”

“She better’ve not meant it. You are not an embarrassment to me. I am so proud of everything you have done. You are amazing, and I love you.”

She looked up him, how he hovered over her, his eyes warm and caring as the anger left them. “Say that last part again.”

“I love you.” His voice was a rich and multi-faceted as Mama’s mole sauce.

“That’s very convenient, because it just so happens that I love you, too.” His eyes brightened as he smiled in response.

“I don’t think I shall ever tire of hearing that.”

“And I’m not even crying in pain this time.”

Ben kissed her on her forehead. “Yes, well, I haven’t let you cook since then either.”

“I swear the heating element jumped out and attacked me.”

He grabbed her hand and looked at the back of it. “At least it healed without a scar.” He kissed where the burn mark had been.

“It was quite amazing how quickly you made it across your flat when you heard me scream. I think you might have broken the sound barrier.”

“From the sound I thought you had broken a leg or something.” He kissed the side of her neck and Wren started to laugh. She knew what he was up to.

“It hurt. But the hastily improvised ice pack from a bag of peas made it all better. That and the look of concern on your face as you took care of me.”

“I will always take care of you.” He whispered the words against her throat before he kissed the skin.

“I have a lunch date, cutiepie, and I still need to take a shower.”

Ben shook his head like a puppy wrangling a toy. “Stay.”

“Come take a shower with me.”

“Hmmmmm,” he said, considering her offer.

“I’ll let you wash my hair.”

He chuckled, “You’ll  _let_  me?”

“Yes, and once the bubbles start, you know where they’ll end up.”

“Ah, yes, this is true. Come, let us go shower.” He climbed off the bed, long legs easily reaching over her, and grabbed her hands, pulling her from the bed with a minimum of grumbling. When she was on her feet and mostly steady, he took her face in his hands. “Annie didn’t lead me on. It was a difficult situation for all of us and she did the best she could. I could have broken up with her if I didn’t think she was the risk. She was always honest with me, so don’t be mad at her for that. She was worth the risk, and it’s the same belief that has let me pursue you, even when you were terrified about being in a relationship. Okay?” His brows rose as he searched her face.

Wren took a deep breath and asked the question to which she most feared the answer. “If she wanted you back, would you go to her?”

Ben didn’t even have to think. “No.”

“Really?”

“She never looked at me the way she looks at Tom. I’m not willing to be someone’s second best.”

“And me? Am I your second best?” She couldn’t look him in the eyes as she waited for his reply.

“You look completely different from her. That’s actually one of the things that attracted me to you at first; that I wouldn’t be reminded about her when I was with you. But by the time I had spent two days with you, I knew that as different as you two look, there’s also a lot you two have in common, besides a love for  _Sherlock_  and a history of dying your hair blue. You are both wonderful women, but you aren’t her replacement. You have some of the same characteristics, but you are also wonderfully different. I fell in love with you because of your own unique splendor, little bird.  _You_  are my first choice.”

Wren blinked back the tears. When she hadn’t looked at him by halfway through his speech, he had lifted her face to his with a finger under her chin, and she was overwhelmed by the sincerity in his eyes and the lines of concern that had formed between his eyes. He needed her to know her place in his heart, and she could feel another set of cold shackles fall from around her heart as he confessed his feelings. She took a deep breath and nodded. “You are my first choice, too. I choose you over fear and self-protection.”

“Thank you, darling. I’ll make it worth your while.”

“You already have.”

***

Wren entered the restaurant and looked around to see if Annie was already there. She saw Annie wave and crossed the floor to join her.

“Thank you for meeting me.”

Wren smiled politely as she sat down, placing her purse on an empty chair. “I must admit I was surprised to hear from you this morning.”

“I can imagine. So much for our much vaunted British politeness, right? Tom’s fiancée called me for lunch once; it was incredibly awkward. But she wanted to ask a favor of me, and I want to ask a favor of you.”

“A favor of me?”

Annie nodded. “I want you to forgive me for what I said last night. I had a horrible evening and I want to apologize for taking it out on you.”

The waitress came and got their drink orders. “I don’t think you are the only one who should be offering an apology. Ben corrected me when I related our conversation to him.”

Annie’s mouth dropped open. “You told Ben what I said?”

“Yeah.” She grimaced. “If it makes you feel better, I told him it wasn’t your fault.”

Annie rubbed her forehead with the back of her thumb. “He’s something to behold when he’s angry.”

Wren nodded. “Yes, he is. It’s like he gets an extra twenty pounds of muscle.”

“And his eyes go ice cold.”

“And his jaw does that thing!”

Annie laughed. “I know exactly what you’re talking about.”

Wren laughed and the noise trailed off into a nervous silence. The waitress came by with their drinks, and asked them for their orders. Wren got souvlaki while Annie ordered gyros.

“Ben told me you didn’t string him along. He says you did the best you could under the circumstances.”

Annie sat back in her chair, her shoulders relaxing in relief. “I’m glad he feels that way. No matter what I did someone was going to get hurt, and it was a horrible situation knowing that as wonderful as both men were, I was going to hurt one of them.”

“And you had to make the best choice for yourself.”

“Right.” She smiled, and Wren could see why Ben had fallen in love with her.

Wren swallowed, trying to build up the courage to apologize for what she had said the night before. “I had to admit, I was nervous when I met you last night. You’re the equivalent of Helen of Troy in my book. Ben’s Annie, and you’ll always be his Annie in some ways, that inspired years of pining in the man I love.”

Faint smile lines showed around her eyes. “And all I could see was a woman a decade younger than me who wasn’t carrying an extra stone of baby weight, and looked better in a designer gown than I ever did.”

Wren looked at her skeptically. “I don’t know where you’re carrying it, unless it is in your boobs. You have a rack many women would kill for.”

Annie laughed. “You’re delightful. We should go out to lunch more often.”

Wren arched an eyebrow. “Are you sure it wouldn’t embarrass you to be seen with me?”

Annie’s nose wrinkled in distaste at her own behavior. “Can you forgive me for saying that? Ben has always been a goof, and you make him happier than he’s been in years. He needs someone who is as spontaneous as he is. I used to do things like bounce on trampolines and have ice cream fights but wrangling three little ones has put me on a schedule every minute of the day. I envy you your freedom.”

“I envy your children their devoted mother.”

Annie put her hand over Wren’s on the table. “Can we pretend last night never happened and start over? Even if we don’t end up being best friends, I would love to at least be able to get along, for the boys’ sake, if nothing else.”

“Ah yes, the boys,” she laughed. “Ben wouldn’t stop talking about how good it was to get to talk to Tom after so long.”

“Tom said the same thing. We should all do dinner some time,” Annie suggested.

“That would be nice. I’d love to meet your children as well.”

“You should come over to our house. We can all eat together, and then we can toss the kids in their beds, and the adults can catch up.”

“And get a little drunk and disorderly,” Wren teased.

Annie snorted. “Of course. Tom can challenge Ben to a dance-off. I have no chance of ever beating him with those long legs.”

“And we can take pictures and sell them to the media and finance a nice little girls’ only vacation.”

“Wren, I think this is going to be the beginning of a beautiful relationship.”

They clinked glasses just as their waitress dropped off their food. They didn’t talk about Ben or Tom again. Wren found out that Annie worked with authors and started asking about what she recommended to read that had been published recently. They spent the rest of the meal talking about books, and Wren left the lunch – Annie apologized that she had to get home to nurse the baby – with plans for their families to get together for dinner Friday night and that Annie would have some books to loan her.

Ben was stretched out on his sofa, his big toe poking through his striped sock, when Wren let herself into his flat. He put his book down, his eyebrows raised in question. “How was lunch?”

“Delightful. We’re having dinner with Tom and Annie and the kids on Friday night.” She stretched out next to him on the sofa, wriggling in between him and the back of the couch so he had to turn on his side to accommodate her.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. Why didn’t you ever tell me how nice she is?”

Ben’s laughter echoed in the room.

Wren’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Why is that so funny?”

“You, darling, never cease to amaze me. You forgive very easily.” He grinned at her and Wren smiled back.

“Well, if she hadn’t broken your heart,” she poked him in the ribs, “I would never have had the chance to put it back together again, would I?”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“So, really, I should be thanking her. It’s because of her that I’m so happy.”

Ben pouted at her. “Well, I think I deserve a little bit of the credit.”

Wren giggled and kissed him on the tip of his nose. “There’s nothing little about you, darling.” She purred the words against his mouth.

He claimed her lips and slowly but inexorably shifted her onto her back as they kissed. Wren’s hands were in his hair, her legs tangled with his, when she said, “It’s very easy to forgive her when I know how much you love me.”

Ben lifted his head so he could see her easier. “Were you worried?”

Wren focused on Ben’s lips, not wanting to see the emotions in his beautiful eyes. “It wasn’t that long ago you were crying over her.”

Ben lifted her face so she was looking at him again. “That was me crying over what I had let myself become in her absence, not me crying over her. I love you, Wren.”

“I know. I’m starting to believe it in my heart, too.”

“Good.” He stood up and grabbed her by the hands and pulled her to her feet as well. “Now come take a nap with me.” He pulled her into his bedroom with no resistance.

“Something tells me you don’t really want to nap,” she said as he pulled her shirt off over her head.

“You are very smart.”

“You are very obvious.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and rubbed her hips against his. “Very,  _very_  obvious.”

They did take a nap.

Eventually.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

_A/N NSFW_

Ben absentmindedly twirled his pen as he read through another project proposal lounging in his pants and a t-shirt on the sofa. Wren always turned the heat up to tropical levels when she was there, claiming that she hadn’t acclimated to an England winter after so many years in Bolivia. The sample of the script was intriguing, and he found himself making notes in the margins about how he would want to play the scene. He was scribbling a thought about the character’s motivation when a stream of water pelted him in the side of the head. His head shot up and he saw Wren, standing at the base of the staircase with a watergun in one hand and a grin on her face.

“Oh, you are asking for it now, sugar.” His narrowed-eye glare was ruined by the steady drip of water off of his chin. He launched himself off the sofa and she scrambled for the stairs, laughing so hard she had to use her hands to keep herself from falling over. His socks kept him getting instant traction and she had made it to the top of the stairs by the time he got to the bottom. She shot at him again but he dodged and ran up the stairs two at a time as she screamed and ran down the hallway. Wren fumbled with the door knob to his bedroom and swore as the old knob resorted to its usual tricks and wouldn’t open.

Ben’s hands appeared on either side of her head and she could feel the heat of his body right behind her, carefully not touching her. “I think I’ve got you, girl.”

“Stand back, I’ve got a gun!” She laughingly held up the piece of obnoxiously colored plastic as she turned around to see him.

“I’m not a witch. A little water isn’t going to melt me.”

“I understood that reference.” She dissolved into laughter and Ben disarmed his giggling foe. They had watched  _The Avengers_  the night before at her request to see some more of what Tom had done before they had dinner together and she had discovered an unexpected affinity with Steve Rogers and feeling completely lost in popular culture.

Ben pressed against her, pinning her to the door with his muscled frame. “You have been a very bad girl,” he murmured, the words instantly halting her laughter as they stalked down her spine like cat’s feet. “What do you think I should do with you now that I’ve caught you?”

He licked his lips as her eyes widened at the suggestion in his voice. “I think I should be sent to bed without supper.”

“You do, do you?” He breathed the words against her lips, and when she leaned into the kiss he backed off, teasing her with the denial of what she craved.

She batted her eyelashes at him. “Yes. Though I might be bad and get out of bed.”

He dropped the gun to the floor and took her hands and pinned them above her head. “You do have a tendency to be disobedient.” He held her wrists with one hand and let his fingers slide down her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. “What do you think I should do about that?” His hand closed over her breast and he began to dispassionately stroke her nipple through the almost sheer fabric of her old tee.

Wren had to concentrate to be able to answer him, distracted as she was by the way his hips were pressed against her, holding her motionless against the door, and the way he was rolling her nipple between his finger and thumb. “Umm, maybe you should come to bed with me, and that way you could make sure I don’t get out.”

He licked at her ear before he whispered, “That might work as sufficient punishment for you disrupting my work. What should we do about you getting me wet?”

“Well, maybe you could get me wet. An eye for an eye, and all that.” She pushed her hips forward and he pushed them back with his own, pinning her with more force against the door.

“I think that’s fitting.” He bent to her, kissed her, and whispered, “keep your hands where they are” as he pulled her tee off over her head. Slowly he kissed down her throat, his full lips moving slowly against the warm skin. Wren sank her fingers into his lush curls, holding on to him as he made his way down her body, taking time as he always did to kiss the birthmark under her breast.

Ben’s hands skimmed over her sides, fingers sliding over the angles of her hip bones before teasing over the elastic at the waist of her knickers. He landed on his knees as he kissed her belly and then the fabric over her mound.  His breath was hot and moist as he nuzzled her through the fabric and Wren let her head fall back against the door as he tugged her knickers down her legs. She could feel his breath against her wet heat when she felt a cold stream of water pelt her under her chin. Her eyes flew open to see Ben lurching to his feet with the water gun in one hand. She wiped the water from her face, trying to decide if she thought he was funny or infuriating as he ran back down the hall, laughing as he went. She started to run after him, almost tripping as she discovered that he had left her knickers around her knees. She kicked them off and ran after him.

“Oh, it is on now, Cumberbatch!” She ran down the stairs only to come to a halt as she couldn’t see him anywhere. She carefully stepped forward to peer around the corner into the living room when she felt water hit her in the back. She turned to see him duck below the kitchen island. She ran into the kitchen and felt his arms close around her waist as he swung her up and deposited her on the kitchen island. He stepped between her legs and grabbed her face in his hands and kissed her hard. His mouth tilted and hers opened and Wren found herself wrapping her legs around his hips and pulling herself closer to him. She grabbed at his shirt and pulled it off and dropped it to the floor. His hands fell to her breasts and he stroked them, teasing her nipples until she was arching, presenting them to his touch like an offering to a god. He sucked one delectable nipple into his mouth and let his hand fall between their bodies, stroking her wetness. Wren rocked against his teasing fingers, trying to get him to touch her more firmly, but he always managed to stay that millimeter away from where she wanted him until she finally called his name, the broken ‘Ben’ joining with the sharp sting of her short nails raking down his back.

He slipped his finger inside her, and her hips bucked up off the counter. She let herself fall back, the tile a cold shock on her fevered skin, but this way she could raise her hips, pleading for more of his touch. She drew her heels to her bum, spreading herself open and Ben purred as he bent to taste her. The low rumble vibrated through her as he tongued her clit and her fingers closed in his curls.

In the few months they had been together, Ben had developed a passion for licking her that she happily encouraged. He had his “two for one” rule, that she should have two orgasms for every one of his, and he lived by his rule almost every time, and as he slid another finger inside her as his tongue traced circles around her clit, she knew he would be living that maxim tonight. Energy coiled like a spring in her stomach and she rocked against Ben’s face until he finally put his hand on her stomach, holding her down so he could proceed at the slow sweet pace he loved. It took longer this way, but the orgasms were better and the part of her that didn’t want to curse him thanked god for his patience as the warm flat of his tongue spread her open ever further. He sucked his clit into his mouth and lapped at it over and over as his fingers slowly pumped in and out of her.

He crossed his fingers inside her and she shuddered as he continued to steadily finger her. She forced herself to let go of his head. She had learned that she couldn’t touch his hair when she was this close because she always lost control and pulled, so instead she palmed her own breasts, squeezing and kneading and tugging at her nipples. She bucked up against his restraining hand and he pressed even harder, keeping her in place as his tongue and fingers quickened their pace. A minute more of his meticulous attention to every quiver in her thighs and moan from her lips and curl of her toes and she was coming, crying his name, listening to it echo from the tile and stainless steel.

The dancing stars and blinding light slowly coalesced into Ben’s kitchen and she saw him standing over her, licking one of his fingers. “Share?”

She nodded and he slid his middle finger into her mouth, watching as she sucked it clean. His eyes fell half-closed as her warm tongue slid around his finger and he swore under his breath. “That’s it.”

He picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her, not caring where as she kissed him, tasting herself on his full lips. Just a few steps later he set her down, turned her around and bent her over the dining table, his hand firm and large between her shoulder blades. He buried himself in her without preamble, and her groan matched his in a higher octave.

Ben fought for control, not wanting this to end, but even after the months that they had been together, she was still mysterious and enchanting, and he could not get enough of the way she had opened to him. Their first night of lovemaking, he had coaxed her into bed and she had been hesitant about letting him go down on her. Now, though, she was insatiable and they spent almost every night they were together making love and fucking and making love some more. She was playful in bed in a way he hadn’t expected and loved him with an abandon that he had feared she would never be capable of feeling.

He pounded into her hard, her hands gripping the edge of the table to keep from sliding too much. She stood on her tiptoes to get the angle she wanted and all she could whisper was, “Fuck.” One of his hands closed on her hip, almost painfully tight, and he reached around to stroke her clit with the other. She cried out as he touched her, her head arching back, and she began to roll her hips against his hand. She was going to explode again and he waited for it, loving the feel of her pulling him with her as she came. “That’s right, my little bird, come for me.”

She moaned, his deep voice sending fire lancing through her veins and pooling in her stomach. She was his in everything but law, and she let go of another layer of the shell she had built around herself as he showed her time and time again that she mattered to him, that her pleasure was more important than his own, that he could laugh when she interrupted his work, make time for her even under a deadline, and turn play into love.

“Come for me, sugar. You know you want to.” He caught her clit between two of his fingers and tugged as he thrust into her even harder. “Come for me, my love.”

She convulsed, and he watched the little shivers run up her spine and his name pour from her mouth.  The muscles in her hip flexed and then held taut as she rode the wave of heat crashing through her and he lost control of the iron grip he had on his own pleasure, the steadily increasing tempo giving way to the erratic rhythm of a toddler banging on a drum set. He managed a last few desperate thrusts as her name tore its way from his throat, and he yelled it to the ceiling and he came deep inside her.

He collapsed on her back as they both fought for breath. When they were both back to some semblance of normal he kissed the back of her neck and she smiled. “Okay, you go finish reading your script now and I’ll make sure to clean the boob prints off the table before your parents come over for dinner on Sunday.”


	16. Chapter Fifteen

Ben was flat on his back, Henry and James crawling all over him, fascinated by this new giant person who had come over to play. The twin toddlers were non-stop motion as Ben would make one fly like a superhero and then the other. “Gan, gan!” they would chant, begging for him to do it again. In between turns propelling one of the chubby cherubs through the air, he would glance over at Wren who was ensconced in an arm chair cooing at Olivia. The four month old was full of grins and would blow spit bubbles from time to time, which Wren would burst with her finger while making a popping noise. It was impossible to watch her with a baby and not have hopes that he might have finally found the woman that would someday give him children of his own to play with.

Henry and James finally started to tire out and slow down. One of them, Ben couldn’t tell them apart yet, sprawled face first across his stomach and almost instantly started snoring, a sound that Ben found much more adorable that he had expected. The other one toddled over to a basket in the corner and came back dragging a green bunny by one ear and carrying a book in the other hand.

“Ook!” He handed it to Ben and plopped down on his nappy-padded behind.

Ben smiled and opened the paperboard pages. “In a great green room,” he started, and all conversation ceased as everyone listened to Ben read James  _Goodnight, Moon._ James was transfixed as he listened, his bunny’s ear firmly in his fist as he sucked his thumb, his finger hooking over his nose. At the end, he released his slobbery little thumb and repeated the last few words with Ben. “Ood nigh noitheth errywhere.”

Ben slowly closed the book and looked at James. “Good night, little boy.”

“Nigh nigh, Unca Ben.” The little tyke hoisted himself to his feet and toddled out the door, dragging his bunny behind him.

Annie looked at Wren. “You okay with her for a few more minutes?”

Wren smiled up at her. “Of course.”

“Good. Let me go tuck that one into bed.” She followed after James as Tom squatted down next to Ben and picked up the bonelessly limp Henry. “They double in weight when they do this,” he murmured as he adjusted the warm heavy body so it was resting against his chest. Tom followed Annie from the room and Ben sat up and shifted so he was resting against the sofa.

“You enjoying yourself, Uncle Ben?” Wren asked with a smile.

Ben nodded. “Those two could tire out a team of Olympic gymnasts; I have no idea how Tom and Annie keep up with them, especially now that they’ve added little miss to the mix.”

Wren looked down at the little girl in her arms. “Oooh, you’re getting a cranker face, aren’t you darling? I’m sorry, I know it looks like I’ve got the equipment, but mine don’t work. You’re going to need to wait for Mummy to get back.”

Olivia started fussing at this less than reassuring pronouncement and Wren brushed her pinky finger against the little rosebud of a mouth. Olivia started sucking at it. “That will keep you entertained for a moment, sweetie pie. At least until you figure out you’ve been given a fake.”

“If I say something, will you promise not to take it the wrong way?”

Wren laughed nervously. “That sounds ominous, but okay.”

“I’m a bit surprised at how comfortable you are with babies.”

She snorted. “Babies are easy. Talk nonsense to them and then give them back to their parents when they cry or get stinky.”

Ben watched her impassively and Wren finally looked down at Olivia again. “What you’re really asking is whether or not I want children of my own.”

Ben crawled over to her and rested his hands on her knees. “We don’t have to talk about this now, or here, but I would be lying if I didn’t say that watching you hold an infant in your arms makes me think about the future in a way I had been resisting.”

Her eyes snapped up to his. “Because you don’t want to think about the future with me?”

“No, not at all.” He placed his hand over hers as she held Olivia. “Because I don’t want to push you. Four months ago the thought of being in a relationship at all terrified you. Now here we are, in love, practically living together; I don’t want to force you forward any faster than you are comfortable going.”

Olivia picked that moment to give up her frustrated sucking on Wren’s finger and start squalling. Wren lifted the baby against her shoulder as she stood up and started dancing with her. Ben watched as she moved back and forth, not the simple sway he was used to seeing British women do, but something with a bit more bounce and a little more hip motion. Ben recognized the step as one he had been taught on that sultry night in a Mérida backyard several months earlier. Wren softly sang to the baby in Spanish and Olivia watched her with wide eyes. Annie hurried back into the room. “I heard the cry of a hungry baby.”

Wren handed Olivia to her mum and sat back down. Ben leaned back against her knees and she threaded her hand into his hair. Tom came back in a minute later and sat down next to Annie who was nursing Olivia on the sofa.

“So, now that the children are mostly comatose, we can have an adult conversation without dodging flying ravioli and  picking sippies up off of the floor,” Tom said with a laugh. “Quite a different experience than the dinners out we used to have, eh?”

Ben chuckled. “That depends on who we brought with us.” This started them into a flood of ‘remember when’s’ that only ended when Tom guiltily said, “We are totally ignoring the ladies.”

“I don’t mind,” Wren said. “I’ve never heard these stories and I need more stories about Ben intoxicated in women’s clothing at three in the morning.”

He tilted his head back so he was looking at her. “No, I really don’t think you do, little bird.”

She leaned forward and kissed him on his forehead. “But it’s giving me  _ideas_.” She rubbed her hands together like an evil mastermind.

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

“Well, I guess if you don’t want me to hear any more stories about your misspent youth, you could challenge Tom to a game of  _Dance Dance Revolution_. Annie and I are going to film it and auction off copies to fund our girlie vacation.”

“If it means no more giving you ideas, then I will gladly challenge Tom to whatever you want.”

Annie went and put Olivia down in her cot while the boys moved the furniture and set up the game.

The two women watched the men compete in a mostly fair fashion and giggled hysterically at their attempts to do some of the more aerobic dance moves. Wren couldn’t help taking a few pictures with her phone. Each flash was met with a stern glance from Ben, which would throw him off, until he finally confiscated her device from her. After Tom beat Ben, he challenged Wren, who tried to beg off. “Have you seen your mutantly long legs? I stand no chance against you.”

“Come on, darling. You’ll enjoy it.”

“That’s what they all say,” she groaned as she hoisted herself off the couch. The glass of wine she’d had while watching the boys play had relaxed her enough that once the music started she easily found the rhythm, and managed to slowly but steadily outscore Tom until she finally left him behind for good.

“I give up,” he finally said. “I think I got conned by her,” he said as he looked at Ben.

“She’s never told you about winning dance competitions?”

Tom’s head swiveled to Wren. “You’re a dancer?”

“No.” She rolled her eyes at Ben but couldn’t help from smiling. “I won  _a_ dance competition that was just the neighborhood kids putting on a show because we were bored.” She sat back down next to Ben and stole his drink from him to wet her parched mouth.

“Wren,” Annie said, “what’s the deal with your name? Sometimes Ben calls you Wren, sometimes Nata, the gossip pages refer to you as Renata. I’m not really sure what I should to call you.”

She started laughing and Ben elbowed her in the ribs. “Call her Wren. I tried changing her name as an experiment in applied psychology which totally failed.”

She linked her fingers through his. “I’ve been Wren for ages. It started as a nickname because I was so quiet and shy when I was young. I could disappear in the middle of a crowd and Ben thought,” she smiled up at him, “if he called me by my real name I wouldn’t be as scared about dating him.”

“It wasn’t just scared about dating me,” he smiled down at her, “it was about having your name reflect something I didn’t see in you. I didn’t want you stuck with a childhood nickname now that you’re grown up.”

“Yeah, but I’m Wren and I have been forever. And besides I decided I’m one of those fairy wrens from Australia that are seven different shades of blue. That’s why I dyed my hair blue.”

Annie sat up excitedly. “You had blue hair?”

“When I met Ben it was blue with little bits of purple.”

“I used to have blue in my hair. Of course it was when I was seventeen, not a year ago.”

“And it looked horrid,” Tom said with a shake of his head.

Annie laughed and poked him in the chest. “You thought it was sexy.”

He shrugged guilelessly. “It’s true, I did.”

“So why did you go back to brown? Not that it’s not lovely the color it is now.”

“Grown up jobs. Someday when I’ve won the lotto, I’m going to dye my hair blue again and walk barefoot in the garden and grow heirloom tomatoes and install grey water systems in urban areas and teach kids who don’t want to go to college and ex-felons plumbing.” Ben looked at her in surprise. He had not heard any of these plans.

“Plumbing?” Tom said, an eyebrow lifted in surprise.

Wren nodded, used to this reaction. “That’s how I got started.”

Annie giggled. “Well that’s fantastic because Ben’s rubbish when it comes to being a handyman.”

“I am not rubbish!”

Annie started laughing. “Remember the one time the tap broke in the kitchen and you were convinced you could fix it? Three days and seven trips to the store later, you finally called a plumber who had to replace the hardware for the entire sink you’d mucked it up so bad!”

“Yes, well if I remember correctly, you rather enjoyed breaking the tap.”

An awkward silence fell in the room as Annie and then Ben both blushed.

Wren started giggling. “Well, that took longer than I thought to happen.”

Ben looked over at her. “What?”

“I started a betting pool with Mama’s kids about how long before the first awkward silence happened. I’m not sure who won, but it sure wasn’t me.”

Ben’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “You bet on how long it would take for this to happen?”

“I was going to dinner with your ex and her husband who used to be your best friend, neither of who you’ve talked to in like four years. There was bound to be at least one, and I chose gambling over a bottle of pinot noir to deal with my nervousness.”

“You should have let me in on the pool,” Annie said as she started giggling. “I totally would have thrown it for you for a cut of the winnings.”

Tom grabbed her waist and tickled. “No cheating sweetheart.”

“So what were the stakes?” Annie asked.

“I have to send the winner twenty pounds.”

Tom shook his head in amusement. “Do you do these betting pools often?”

“It’s sort of a family tradition. We gamble on everything I’m positive they have at least one going on me and Ben.”

“For what?” Ben asked, his voice higher than normal.

“Well, the kids probably have one on when we’ll move in together, though Mama wouldn’t approve of that. Mama probably set one up for announcing a wedding. And then at our wedding they’ll set the pool for when the first baby is born. I honestly think we just pass the same money around over and over.”

Tom coughed and then asked,“So are you two talking that far down the road already?”

Ben looked to Wren to answer that question. “Only in vague terms. I mean, we sort of live together now, but he’s leaving for a month next week, and I’ll stay in my flat rather than his while he’s gone. But as for marriage and kids…we really haven’t discussed that much if at all.”

“Well,” Tom said, “I highly recommend both. They both can be exhausting at times, but they’re worth it.”

“With the right person, at the right time, in the right circumstances,” Wren said softly. Ben squeezed her hand and changed the topic.

When they were at home that evening, and Wren was curled up in his arms in what he thought of now as their bed, he said, “So, what would the right person and time and circumstances be?” The dim light from the windows shone on her hair as he played with it.

Wren sighed softly and burrowed into him closer. “Someone I love who loves me in return. When we’re both sure of ourselves and each other, financially stable, emotionally stable, convinced that this is the person we want to share the rest of our lives with. And for children, I’d have to be willing to quit my job. I know a lot of women can be working moms, but I can’t see myself doing that. Not with how my childhood was. I want to be physically there and present and involved. And I wouldn’t have children with someone who wouldn’t support that. And I wouldn’t have children with someone who didn’t think that I and his children were his top priority, and could devote lots of time to them. If I’m going to bring children into this world, they are going to have their parents in their life from day one until either I or they die.”

Ben softly hummed in agreement, deep in his throat, but didn’t say anything.

She took a deep breath, inhaling his comforting scent and the faint traces of laundry powder. “And what about you? In a purely hypothetical sense? What are your criteria?”

“I want to be in love with someone like I’ve never loved anyone else before. I want to know that they are my reason for being. And then I’ll ask them to marry me. The rest of the stuff I don’t worry about. As for children, I want them, and I want to be a father and a husband more than anything else. The details I figure I’ll work out with their mother.”

Wren nodded. “That sounds like a good plan.”

Ben gently kissed the top of her head. “I’m glad you think so.”

 


	17. Chapter Sixteen

Wren sat on the edge of his bed as she fought with the ridiculously tiny buckles on her heels. “I don’t understand why on our first night back together after a month apart we have to go to this thing.”

“Because doing the publicity is part of my job.” He kissed her on top of her head as he walked to the closet in search of the tie he wanted to wear.

“It just seems like such a waste of money – champagne and fancy finger foods to feed the privileged in their $4,000 suits and obscenely expensive jewelry.” She looked down at the delicate earrings in her hand, purple and white and blue sapphires linked with little diamonds – ‘they reminded me of your hair’ – and then placed them back in the small blue box they had come in. His ‘welcome back present’ had been far more expensive than the one she had gotten for him, a collection of fair trade teas produced by the farmers in the area she had visited. “Every time I go to one of these things with you I come home sick to my stomach. One plate of canapés costs enough to provide clean water for 100 children and I feel like I’m betraying everything I believe in to just show up and look pretty and keep my mouth shut.”

He ran his hands through his hair in frustration.  _Where was that damn tie._ “Then don’t come.”

She silently mimicked him, even knowing she was being childish. “Fine, I won’t.” She fell back against the rumpled duvet.

“I had thought that after me being away for a month, you might want to spend time with me, regardless of where it was, but if you can’t deal with it, you can’t. You’ll be fine in a few days.”

She sat up enough to look at him standing in the doorway to the closet. “What does that mean?”

“You get like this after going out to a field project.” He flipped up the collar on his shirt and started to do his tie. “You come home and you hate yourself for being in London rather than a village somewhere, and you hate my job and you hate that I bought you earrings that weren’t handcrafted by some malnourished child in a third-world country and you hate soft beds and flush toilets and meat and the mindless consumerism of Western Cultural Imperialism and you’ll eat rice and beans for a few days and then you’ll break down in the sweets aisle and cry and buy some fancy chocolate and take a hot bath and you’ll get back to normal.”

Her eyes narrowed. “ _Normal_.”

“Yes.” He checked to make sure his tie was the correct length and then straightened his collar.

She slumped back down on the bed. “I don’t want this to be my normal.”

“What part of  _this_  is so horrible?” He knelt over her on the bed. “The part where we’re together? The part where we’re happy? The part where I keep trying to figure out exactly how to ask you to move in because I fucking hate being away from you and I worry that if I keep waiting you’re going to slip away but if I ask you’re going to panic because we’re moving too fast and you’re still panicking deep down inside at the idea of being in a relationship?”

She shoved him away in frustration and clambered off the bed. “The part where I don’t face the same challenges as 98% of the world’s population because a rich white man fell in love with me.”

It was Ben’s turn to sit on the edge of the bed. He watched her hugging herself, staring at the blank wall, and his heart ached for her. She had such a sensitive heart and the layers of defenses she had built around it made much more sense now than it had three months ago. “How does your suffering make anyone else’s life better? You’re doing so much good here in London. You’re changing so many more lives than you could if you were out in the field.”

“But it’s not fair.” Her whisper broke him. So much despair for such a small sound.

He stood behind her and wrapped his hands around her bare shoulders. “Life isn’t fair, sweetheart. And greater minds than yours and mine have driven themselves insane railing against the unfairness of the universe,” he said gently.

“It just hurts.” Her shoulders sagged under his hand.

He pressed a kiss against her temple. “Oh sugar, I’m sure it does.”

“It helps me keep my life in perspective. I mean, I had a shit childhood, but I always had clean water to drink. I didn’t have to worry about slow death from dehydration or an even slower death from parasite loads in the water. I just want to…I hate that I can’t save all of them fast enough.”

He turned her around and pulled her into an embrace. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against him.

“I want to go put on some jeans and dig a hole in the ground and lay pipe. Something I can see at the end of the day as having made a difference. I don’t feel like I’m making a difference anymore.”

“You make a difference to me.”

She snorted “But you don’t  _need_  me.”

He gripped her face in both hands and lifted it so he could look her in the eyes. “You’re wrong. You have saved me.” His eyes searched her face, looking for her understanding. She paled at the intensity of his words, unsure how to take this declaration of her worth. “Maybe not from death or parasites or illness, but you have saved me nonetheless. I am happy again. You gave me my life back.”

She blinked several times as he gazed at her steadily. She had no response for him.

“That night and Tom and Annie’s, you talked about installing grey water systems in urban areas. That’s something you had never mentioned before.”

She bit the side of her bottom lip and adjusted the dimple in his tie. “Well, this contract only lasts two years and then I need to look for a new job. London doesn’t really need geo-thermal powered wells so I’ve been thinking about what I could do…you know, if I decided to stay in London. Grey water seemed one way to do that.”

“What about putting in community gardens in the estates, the big housing developments? Create green space for the kids to play.”

She laughed and looked up at him, her eyes dancing with amusement. “Do you know how much political red-tape something like that would require?”

“Well, darling, it so happens,” he blew on his nails and buffed them on the lapel of his suit coat, “I attended school with half of Parliament. And Tom actually went to school with Prince William and the other half.”

“So you’re going to get legislation passed to keep me around?”

He chucked her under her chin. “I was more along the lines of having some old friends over for dinner. You know, the ones who have estates in their constituencies. And then you can dazzle them.”

Her eyes narrowed as he sat in the chair in the corner to put his shoes on. “Isn’t this illegal somehow?”

“No, this is me utilizing the resources I have to improve the city I live in. Annie was right; I’m rubbish with wrenches and such, and I’m hopeless at maths, but I’m a bit of a hot property these days and I can trade on that. People already know that I’m a bleeding-heart liberal softie. I’ve had socialist lobbed at me a time or two. So let me put my money where my mouth is and start working the system instead of solely criticizing what others are doing.”

Wren took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart that was threatening to run away faster than Ben’s plans for their future. “You realize the grey water systems were simply an idea, not the goal of my life, right?”

“Yes. But when you are thinking about what you want to do in a year and a half,” he took a deep breath and pressed ahead even as the adrenaline suddenly coursing through his veins was screaming at him to not make any more declarations about his hope for their future together, “please don’t think about only what you can do by yourself, but what we can do together.”

Wren picked up the little blue box and opened it again. She rotated it back and forth, watching the way the stones caught the light and threw it back. “Do you think we’ll still be together in a year and a half?”

Ben leaned back in the chair and watched her not look at him. “I truly hope so.” Someday she would look at him while they discussed their future.

“And I don’t have to figure this all out right now, right?”

He smiled at the tightly controlled worry in her voice. “Of course not.”

“Okay.” She took the earrings out of the box and put them in. “And yes.”

“Yes what?”

“I’ll move in with you.”


	18. Chapter Seventeen

Wren stared at the desk in disbelief. Ben watched her lack of response with a sinking stomach. He folded the blindfold over and over again as he waited for her to say something. Finally he said, “Do you not like it?”

“No. It’s lovely.” It really was. The antique rosewood glowed in the lamplight showing off the elegant inlaid floral design on the drawer fronts. She twisted the ornate key in the lock and rolled back the top, exposing an array of nooks and crannies and small drawers.

“It has lots of space for all of your work things. And it even has,” he pulled out a small drawer and showed her the false bottom, “a little hidey place for your secrets.”

She took the drawer from him and fiddled with the mechanism that opened the compartment.

“You don’t like it.”

“No, I do. It’s beautiful. I would have picked out something very similar for myself.” She forced a smile in an attempt to reassure him. “Probably not as big and nice, but something very similar. I’ll feel compelled to take up letter-writing as a hobby to justify this. No more e-mails for you when you’re on location. You’ll have to wait for the postal service.”

The false humor in her voice clashed badly with her trembling hands. Ben took the drawer from her and slipped it back into its place. “Tell me what’s wrong, sugar.” He leaned against the edge of the desk and waited for her response.

She picked up the improvised blindfold from where he had placed it on the desk. He had been so excited when she arrived home, insisting on blindfolding her with one of his plethora of scarves before he would let her come in so he could show her the surprise he had gotten for her. She had been expecting maybe a candlelight dinner or maybe he had rearranged his bookshelves again, always on the search for the best way to keep his growing collection organized. When the scarf had been removed to reveal a reorganized living room so that there was room for a desk for her, a desk he had purchased, she had felt a sudden weakness in her knees and her vision had faded for a second as a wave of lightheadedness passed over her.

“Nothing’s wrong. I, um,” she raised a hand to rub at her temple, “It’s just that I was fine using the dining table.”

“I know you were, but we’re living together now and you deserve your own space. And now you can leave projects out instead of having to clear off every time we have people over, or worry about me knocking over a cup of coffee during breakfast.”

“It was very thoughtful of you.” She put her workbag on the desk. “See? I have somewhere to keep my purse now.”

Benedict rubbed his hands against his thighs. “Right.” He glanced around the living room. “Would you like to try it out? We can use one of the dining chairs. I didn’t buy a chair for you. I, umm, I thought you would want to pick out one that was comfortable for you.”

Wren stepped back slightly. “Uh, I had a long day. I think I’m going to take a bath right now. And,” she scratched at her arm, “I’ll try it out later.”

The scarf fell unheeded from her hands as she practically ran up the stairs.

When she had been in the en-suite for an hour, he knocked on the door. “I was going to make supper. What would you like?”

There was a pause of several seconds before she answered. “I’m not really hungry. I’ll just make myself some toast or something when I get out.”

He glanced at the clock, debating how much more time he should let pass before he went in and confronted her. He gave up on the idea of supper, his churning stomach making the idea of food unappetizing, and sat on the edge of the bed, tapping his foot in restless worry. He waited, mindlessly buckling and unbuckling his watch, until he heard the water running again. This was at least the third time she had refilled the tub. When it stopped he cracked open the door.

“Wren, can I come in?” He took the silence as consent and stepped into the bathroom. She was sitting in the tub, her arms wrapped around knees drawn up to her chest with her cheek resting on them, her face towards the wall. Her long hair was wet at the ends where it had dipped in the water. He knelt on the plush bathmat and hesitantly placed his hand on her back. A tremor rippled through her. He reached for her loofah, dipped it in the bathwater, added some of the body wash she liked – plumeria and berries and vanilla, a scent irrevocably connected in his brain with the scent of her skin – and began to wash her back.

She didn’t talk, but he could see her start to calm as he continued his ministrations. The white-knuckled grip on her arms loosened and her shoulders relaxed and dropped from where they had been, hunched up around her neck. He put the loofah aside and cupped handfuls of water and poured them over her bubble-speckled skin until she was clean again.

He stood long enough to retrieve the empty vase from the counter. That was one of the few changes Wren had made to his flat since they had started dating. She had a weakness for fresh flowers and was forever showing up with new bouquets. Not bouquets of English flowers either. She didn’t have a fondness for peonies or roses or bachelor buttons. Nothing pink or lilac or white. They were usually the color of fire, reds and oranges and yellows brighter than Mexican sunshine. Sometimes she would bring home bunches of crimsons and scarlet and aubergine mixed with blues so deep they were almost black. Frequently there would be branches in the arrangements, bare twigs, or pussy willows, or a few single stalks of a flowering shrub. For one dinner with his parents, she had made an arrangement for the table of succulents, pomegranates, purple lettuce, and calla lilies that shaded from the normal cream to plum at their hearts. His mother had pronounced it ‘interesting.’

He filled the vase with water and, cupping his hand around her forehead to keep from getting it in her eyes, wet the rest of her hair. He set to washing her hair, lather building between his fingers as he rubbed his fingertips against her scalp. He ruthlessly exploited her love for having her hair played with as he attempted to fix whatever it was he had done. He used the vase to rinse her hair again, watching the long strands turn otter-sleek under the steady pour of water.

He was about to reach for the conditioner when she spoke.

“It won’t fit in a box.”

“What won’t? The desk?”

She turned her head so she was looking at him. A red mark cut across her cheek from where it had been resting on her knee. “It won’t fit in a box. I’ve always been able to move everything I own in a few boxes. And that won’t.”

Moving her out of her flat had taken a single car trip. Even familiar with how minimalistically she lived, he had been surprised by the scarcity of her possessions, especially when he recognized so many of the things he packed as items she had acquired in her time with him. “Is that bad?”

“It’s going to make moving out more difficult.”

He sat back on his heels. “Are you moving out?”

“Maybe? Someday?” He watched pain lines emerge across her forehead and around her eyes. “When you decide you’re done with me?”

“What part of me buying you furniture makes you think I’m ever going to be done with you, love?” He interlaced his fingers with hers, needing a connection with her right now.

“Well, not right now. But…someday.”

His brow furrowed as he looked at her, stroking his lips absentmindedly. “Am I pushing you too fast?”

“It just…it makes it real. That we’re living together. Up until now I’ve been telling myself that I’m living with you, because all of the stuff was yours. But now, some of it is mine, and this is  _our_  flat, we’re  _together_  and there’s an  _us_  and…and…and…,” her shoulders started to shake as her watery eyes closed, “it’s going to hurt so bad when you leave me.”

Ben’s chest constricted and his heartbeat slowed as he watched her dissolve into pained tears. He stepped into the tub behind her and sat, carefully working his long legs around her. “Come here,” he murmured and wrapped his arms around her. She slowly relaxed back against him, turning on her side so she could rest her head against his chest and hear the steady beat of his heart under her ear. He held her past when she stopped crying, until the water cooled and goosebumps joined wrinkled toes in marking their skin.

“Let’s get out and get warm,” he suggested and she nodded. She held on to his hand as she stepped out of the tub. It wasn’t until he stood that she realized that he was still dressed.

Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, Ben, you’re soaking wet.”

He looked down at his soaked jeans and the tee that was wet up to his armpits. “No harm done.”

She grasped his face in both of her trembling hands. “Promise me you’re not going to leave me,” she pleaded. Her shoulders were shaking and her chin quivered as her lips pinched together in sorrow and fear.

He wrapped his hands around her shoulders. “I will never leave you.” He ducked so he could look her straight in the eyes. “I promise. I will never leave you.” His eyes flicked across her face, trying to find some sign that she believed him. She sniffed and nodded several times, short, timid little nods even as she began to cry again.

He pulled her to him and held her again. “I will never leave you until you make me. I love you, little bird.”

“I don’t know how to stop expecting you to leave me,” she whispered.

“It will take time. I can be as patient as you need. I love you.” The words hung in the air in front of him like glistening soap bubbles. How many times had he told Annie that? How many times had he promised her the same thing? He knew Wren loved him; it wasn’t that he doubted her. But she was as tied to her abusive past as Annie had been to Tom. His throat closed off and his hands stilled in their gentle stroking of her back at the heart-sinking realization he was back in the same relationship that had ended so painfully four years earlier. The play never changes, only the players.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

Ben looked up from his place on the sofa when Wren asked, “What do you think?”

His eyes roamed over her low-cut gold blouse that shimmered softly in the light. It left her arms bare and the short cream colored skirt left her legs equally inviting to his touch. She had on strappy heels that he didn’t ever remember her wearing before and she’d twisted her hair back away from her face, leaving the viewer’s entire attention to be captivated by her smoky eyes.

He looked down at his own jeans and tee. “Did I forget something?”

Wren laughed delightedly as he strutted across the floor to her. “No. I’ve decided I need a girl’s night. So I’ve invited Annie and Amanda and Lou from your circle and Jane and Eliza from work, and we’ve hired a limo and we’re going to go get sloshed and who knows what else.”

He brushed his hands down the length of her arms before linking his hands with hers. She was soft as silk and he could catch the barest whiff of her perfume. “Should I go get the bail money out of the bank right now?”

She kissed him on the cheek, not wanting to mess her makeup. “I don’t think it will come to that.”

He nuzzled the soft skin at the base of her ear, seeking out the spot where she had applied her perfume. “Should I wait up?”

“I wouldn’t. But I’ll wake you when I get home if you like.”

He rested his hands on her lower back, pinning her hands behind her, and then pulling her tight against him. Wren’s breath was unsteady as the hard warmth of his body radiated against her. He was staring at her mouth, the lips a glossy pale pink, and imagining what that color would look like against his cock. “I would definitely like that.”

Wren flushed from the heat in his voice; it was like being seduced by Smaug. Her eyes darkened as his tongue flicked out to moisten lips suddenly gone dry. “If you keep looking at me like that I’m going to have to change panties before I go.”

“If you keep saying things like that,” his voice was almost impossibly low, “I’ll take your knickers off you myself.”

She leaned in to kiss him and stopped just shy of his lips. “I’ll let you take them off when I get home.”

He kissed her then and whispered, “It’s a date,” against her mouth.

She left her lipstick on him. “It’s a date.”

Ben sighed in mixed frustration and relief as the door shut behind Wren. He had felt like he was walking on eggshells the last few days as he waited to discover the next thing that would send her into a panic. He had woken the next morning to discover that she had arrayed the KinderEgg toys along the top of the desk. One of them was holding a sign fashioned from a toothpick and an index card that said, “Thank you for the desk.” While he had been happy about the note, he had also noticed she hadn’t really used it much as anything other than a place to put her workbag when she came home.

He was getting ready for bed around midnight when his mobile rang. He was expecting it to be Wren and was surprised to see that Lou was calling. He felt a sudden sickness in the pit of his stomach as he answered.

“Lou? What’s up? Calling for bail money?” He tried to laugh off his nerves.

The nervous giggle he got in response didn’t help settle his mind. “Actually,” she drew out the word as if she didn’t want to have to continue the sentence, “yes.”

“Are you taking the piss? That’s not funny.”

“No, I’m serious. Wren’s been arrested and so have Annie and Amanda and I need you to call Tom and Martin and have them all meet us at,” she paused and he heard her yelling at someone, “the Notting Hill police station.”

He was already putting his shoes on. “Do I need to call a barrister? What was she arrested for?” He couldn’t help but wonder how drunk you had to be to actually get arrested for public intoxication.

“Assault.”

He stopped everything he was doing, convinced that he had heard wrong. “Did you say assault?”

“A pap took an upskirt of her getting out of the limo and she smacked him, yanked his camera from him and deleted the photos and Amanda and Annie held him off while she did it.”

He still couldn’t move, his muscles paralyzed by the thought of Wren getting subjected to that kind of treatment. “Is she okay?”

“She’s still yelling at the officers that they need to arrest the pap and not her, so I’m thinking she’s fine.”

He scrubbed at his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Tell her I’ll be right there. And I’ll start calling people.”

“I will.”

“And Lou?

“Yes?

“Tell her I love her.”

“Will do.”

He called Tom and Martin from the car and set those wheels into motion. Both of them swore – literally – that they would be there as soon as they got someone to sit with the kids. He then called his publicist to give her a heads up and have her find a barrister. By the time the explanations were done, he had made it through the relatively empty streets to the Notting Hill station.

He burst through the front doors to see Lou standing with two women he assumed were Jane and Eliza. One of them was a short chubby blonde and the other a tall, curvaceous woman of African heritage. “Any more news?”

Lou shook her head. “They’re being processed and then they’ll be held here overnight until they see a magistrate in the morning for arraignment.”

Ben ran his hands across his hair. “That’s fucking bollocks. They were protecting themselves.”

“They told the officers what happened, but he said that it’s not his job to sort out the stories.”

“So did they end up arresting the pap?”

“He didn’t do anything illegal.”

“He took a picture up her skirt. How is that not illegal? Invasion of privacy or something?”

Lou shook her head. “She deleted the picture so there’s no proof he did it.”

“You saw what happened, didn’t you? Where were you?”

“We were getting out in front of a club, and lots of people saw the scuffle, and a few people heard him say, ‘nice knickers, darlin’,’ to her, but that all goes to the judge for the arraignment.”

“So they are going to hold Wren and Annie and Amanda overnight for defending themselves against a sexual predator. That’s shit.”

Heads were turning as his voice got louder and his actions larger. “Lou, you feel like stirring up some trouble?”

“Of course.”

“Get on your twitter. Let people know what’s going on. Tag or whatever you do to let Annie and Amanda’s followers know that they are in jail for helping Wren protect herself against a pervert and ask them to start demanding that the pap be arrested and they all be released. Have them call whoever they think they can make a difference. This is utter shit and I won’t stand for it.”

Ben paced the uneven tile as Lou, Eliza, and Jane all took to Twitter to let people know what was going on. He felt a little ridiculous that he was leading a social media revolution to free his girlfriend like a political protestor in Egypt but he couldn’t think of anything else to do until the barrister got there. He knew that if he talked to an officer directly he would lose any grip he currently had on his temper and damage any hope he had of the barrister working some back channel magic.

“Benedict, people are asking what station they’re being held at so they can come down here and raise a ruckus. Do you want them to know that?”

He shook his head. “Tell them call elected officials, the police commissioner, sympathetic media sources, things like that. I don’t want to piss off the police right now by turning this into a zoo so that they can’t do their job.”

A few minutes later Tom arrived with what appeared to be a black insulated lunch bag.

“Did you stop to pack snacks or something?”

Tom was scowling, a look Ben couldn’t remember seeing on his face before. “It’s Annie’s breast pump.”

“Shit, I didn’t even think about that. Is Olivia going to be alright?”

“Yes. We have some stored and Annie was going to pump and dump anyway so she could have her first girl’s night in over a year. But she’ll just be hurting if this extends longer than a few more hours and I have no idea how this works so I brought it to be safe.”

Martin threw open the doors and bellowed, “Where the fuck is my Amanda?” He stalked over to Ben and Tom. “What in all the bleeding hells is going on?”

“We’re waiting for the barrister because all of us would get arrested if we tried to talk to a police officer right now.”

“I swear to God, I am going to sue that bloody fucking pox-addled weasel-faced maggot infested shit-sack of pus and pestilence masquerading as a photographer.” He was shaking he was so furious.

“That was almost Shakespearean,” Tom said.

Martin shot Tom an almost humorous look. “You would know.”

An attractive woman with long dark hair and wearing an expensive suit walked into the station, took a look around the lobby and then headed over to the group. “Hello, I’m A’lia Hakimi. I understand that I’m here to represent Renata Campbell. Am I also representing the other two women?”

Tom and Martin nodded.

“Alright, I’ll be right back.”

She walked over to the counter, her heels clicking precisely on the floor. The three men looked at each other, shrugged, and watched her. She talked to the officer staffing the desk, who argued with her for a minute and then left. He returned with an older woman with a permanent scowl. They couldn’t hear the whole conversation, but watched as A’lia talked to the older woman and they heard bits and pieces like ‘released on recognizance’ and ‘flight risk’ and ‘nursing mother’ and lastly something that sounded suspiciously like, ‘do you want to be responsible for no more  _Sherlock_?’ as she pointed at them. The officer’s eyes widened when she saw them and A’lia returned to them a minute later.

“I’ve talked the chief inspector in to releasing the women on their own recognizance if she can get autographs from all of you.”

Tom rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s comforting to know this is how our legal system works.”

“Well, it worked in our favor this time. They have an eleven o’clock appointment in Magistrate’s court. If they don’t show up for that, they will be arrested. I’d like to meet with all of the women at ten am just to go over details of what happened.”

Forty-five minutes later, after autographs and signing legal documents and hugs and swearing and more hugs, Ben and Wren were safely in his Jaguar, purring through the quiet streets.

Wren watched Ben drive. His jaw was set so firmly that there was no way for words to escape and his hands clenched rhythmically around the steering wheel.

The silence stretched until it was worse than the yelling it was preventing so Wren finally broke the tension. “You’re really mad, aren’t you?”

“Livid.”

Wren gnawed at her bottom lip as she worried her hands in her lap. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would end up like this.

Ben gave her a quick glance. “Why are you apologizing? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Her face crinkled in confusion. “Wait, who are you mad at?”

“The pap and the police for arresting you instead of him.”

“Oh.” She blinked several times as she digested that information. “I thought you were mad at me.”

“I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself. Heaven knows what would have happened if I had been there. At the minimum, I would have been consigned to the cell next to yours.”

“They said you were like this,” she said to herself.

He looked over at her again. “Who? Like what?”

“I was telling the girls about the desk you bought me and how I freaked out because I didn’t know what I was going to do with it when you left me and Amanda, Annie, and Lou all told me I was being ridiculous because that is not how you are.”

Ben was thankful for the red light. He turned to face her. “Do you believe them?”

She touched his cheek softly. It felt to Ben as if she were reassuring herself that he was real. “Not many men I know have their ex-girlfriend singing their praises.”

He took her hand and kissed the back of her fingers. “Well, I don’t know if I deserve praises, but if I have a flaw in that regard it is that I am too loyal, rather than not loyal enough.”

“That’s starting to be quite apparent. My grandmother had to come pick me up at the police station when I was about fifteen. I was with my friends who were drinking, and even though I wasn’t, when the party got busted I got arrested as well. She threatened to drop me in foster care if I ever got in trouble again. While I was sitting in that cell, though, I kept trying to figure out why I was absolutely positive that though you might be mad, I also knew that you wouldn’t break up with me over this.”

His hand tightened around hers involuntarily as he started driving again. “You knew that?”

“I did. And I haven’t figured it out yet in any sort of way that I can put into words, but I knew this wouldn’t be something you would leave me over.”

He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it again in lieu of being able to kiss her. “I’m glad you know that.”

“I do! And it’s weird! Like, I just  _know_. And it makes me feel…settled?” She snorted and pushed her bangs back. “See, I told you I don’t have the words yet. But I feel kind of like a tree that’s been transplanted. All along I’ve been in this little pot and was all root bound and now I’ve been put in good soil and can actually establish real roots. Does that sound stupid? It sounds stupid, doesn’t it?”

Ben shook his head, trying to fight back the tears threatening to clog his voice. “It makes perfect sense.”

“Maybe it’s because Mama gave you her blessing. Maybe it’s that you’re finally soaking in to my brain and rewiring all those little neurons that have been sending me bad messages. Maybe it’s just an accumulation of evidence that you aren’t like anyone I have ever dated before. But I’m starting to believe you when you talk about our future together. I mean, I even bought a chair.”

“You bought a chair?”

She laughed and clapped her hands in excitement. “Oh! I forgot to tell you. I bought a chair tonight for the desk so I can use it.”

“You bought a chair on your girl’s night out?”

She nodded happily. “Well, I was telling them about the desk and how I felt bad that I hadn’t used it yet because it didn’t have a chair and Lou got the idea that we should go race desk chairs so we went to one of those office supply emporiums and raced the desk chairs to see which one was the fastest.”

Ben chuckled. “You bought the fastest desk chair?”

“No. I bought the spinniest one. I figured with one desk chair racing probably wouldn’t happen that often, but spinning in circles would happen on a regular basis.”

He squeezed her hand and brought it to his mouth again for another kiss. “I love your decision making process.”

“Yes, well the employees at the store were much less amused. I barely got to buy the one I wanted before we were all asked to leave.”

He could only imagine the chaos the six women had inflicted upon the clerks.“How intoxicated were you?”

“A bit. It’s not like we were falling over or anything.” She paused for a few moments. “Well, maybe a little bit of falling over after the spinning tests.”

Ben’s laughter vanquished the last little bits of fear in Wren’s heart about how we was going to respond to her arrest.

They were silent together for a few minutes before Wren spoke again. “This is what love is, isn’t it? Giving someone the power to hurt you and trusting that they won’t?”

Ben nodded. “Pretty much.”

She looked down at his hand wrapped gently around hers. “I’ve always lived like it was just waiting for them to hurt you, but you’re changing that.”

“I’m glad.”

“I think Mama is saying extra prayers.”

“Whatever it is that is creating this change, it’s working, and I’m grateful for it.”

It was Wren’s turn to take advantage of the red light. She turned his face towards her. “I love you, Benedict. I may have occasional lapses into freakout mode because I don’t think I can flush that much history so quickly, but I really do love you.” Her eyes were wide, searching his face for belief. “I bought a chair.”

“You did.”

“Can I get a Vespa?’

He grinned, lines creasing the corners of his eyes. “Of course.”

“I’ve always wanted a Vespa.”

“You can get anything you want.”


	20. Chapter Nineteen

_Three Months Later_

Wren fumbled for the doorknob, her arms full of flattened boxes. She finally gave up and leaned on the buzzer until Ben answered. “Let me in,” she yelled.

Ben opened the door and grabbed at the boxes she tossed into the house before she stomped past them. She flung herself down on the couch and yanked off her high heels, throwing them forcefully into the dining room.

Ben froze as he watched her continue to undress. She sat up far enough to yank off the fitted suit coat and throw it on the floor. She took out her earrings, a pair he had given her for her birthday just the previous month and she placed them carefully on the sofa before she grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it off over her head. She threw it blindly and stood and went to work on the hook and eye closure of her skirt at the back of her waist. She stamped her feet in frustration and growled as she couldn’t get the miniscule hook to unfasten. Ben rescued her skirt from imminent destruction by stepping in and shooing her hands away. He carefully unfastened her skirt and then slid down the zipper. “Bad day at work, darling?”

“They fired me.”

Ben’s hands stilled on the zipper. “They fired you? For what?”

Wren assumed her best corporate-speak voice, something she had gotten very good at in the last eight months. “Violating the terms of my employment contract by being publicly involved in a political issue on which the bank hasn’t taken a position and encouraged employee involvement.”

Ben gently placed his hands on her shoulders and carefully spun her around. “Are you telling me those bastards fired you for trying to get upskirt photos banned?” The veins in his throat were pulsing as he tried to control the sudden rage that coursed through him like a dam had ruptured.

The magistrate had dropped the charges against the women but the Annie, Amanda, and Wren had refused to drop the matter. Taking advantage of their high profile, the women had gotten themselves invited on every major morning talk show and started an on-going campaign to pressure Parliament to classify taking a picture of a woman’s panties without her permission as a sexual assault, and the printing of those photos without the woman’s express written permission accessory after the fact. That weekend, the three of them had invited their friends over and spent a night coming up with slogans for their campaign. No Pics of my Panties was a personal favorite. No Fotos of my Fanny had been bandied about but was ultimately discarded as potentially offensive to the politicians they would need to court. Snap My Knickers and You’ll Get Nicked was considered for a while, and as more and more alcohol was consumed, they briefly considered Don’t Tweet my Twat. That was the point at which Ben started making coffee for everyone. She had been a regular on the political circuit since then. She’d written editorials in the papers, had lunches with members of Parliament and organized a media campaign of women, celebrities and not, posing in work uniforms, fancy dress, formal attire, wedding gowns, swimsuits, in lingerie, and even nude, with the slogan “I choose what to wear, I choose what you see. My Knickers, My Choice.” They were popping up all over London. Wren had posed in Ben’s Sherlock coat, with one bare leg kicked out provocatively.

“Yes.” She yanked her skirt down her hips, the zipper ripping open the final inch, and kicked it off, letting it slide across the floor unheeded. She stomped into the kitchen and rummaged through the junk drawer until she found a roll of heavy tape.

“Just out of the blue like that?” Ben called after her. He watched nervously, unsure of what she was doing, but feared that if he inquired, she would throw the next object at him.

She plopped down on the floor in her bra and underwear and started taping boxes together. “No, after I got arrested and went on the morning shows they brought me in and warned me that it violated the terms of my contract. I didn’t they would actually fire me over it.”

Ben squatted down next to her. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

She stood and stared out the window for a minute. Her chest was heaving and he could see her chin quivering as she fought back angry tears. “I thought it was just HR being sticky about things. I didn’t realize they were a bunch of fucking doucheweasels.”

Ben started taping the next box, wanting to feel like he was doing something, even though he had no idea what the boxes were for. “I really need to stop letting you hang out with Martin.”

Wren walked over to her desk. She trailed her fingers over the shining hardwood before she scooped all the Kinderegg figures off of the top and dropped them into the open box.

Ben looked up at the plastic clatter. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” She flipped open the roll top and started pulling everything out of the cubbies. It wasn’t much. A few letters from Mama, the copy of  _The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy_ Ben had given her on their first date, the earrings he had brought back for her out of the secret hidey drawer, a few favorite pens. “I’m packing.”

Ben scrambled to his feet and grabbed her hands, stopping her from stripping her desk bare. “Why are you packing?”

The tears started to fall, and she couldn’t wipe them away as Ben held her hands tightly.

“Why are you packing?” Ben repeated, trying not to let his frantic fear show in his voice. Even with the measure of success he had, he couldn’t keep it from shredding his stomach with razor sharp claws.

She wouldn’t look at him, couldn’t look at him. Wren knew the minute she looked into his eyes she would lose the tenuous grasp on her composure she was barely maintaining. “I lost my visa. I’m here on a work visa and they’re calling immigration or whatever you call it here and reporting me. I have two weeks to leave before I’m in violation of immigration law.”

Ben lurched to his feet. “Fuck that.”

She looked up at him. “It’s the law, Ben. I have to leave.”

“No. This is not happening.” He stopped his pacing. “Do you hear me? You are not leaving like this. Not like this. Go get dressed.” He pointed up the staircase. “We’re going out.”

Wren put her head down on her desk and covered her head with her arms. “Ben, I really don’t want to go out.”

“Please? There’s something I haven’t done with you yet and we’re doing it tonight.” He paused and he bent down and stroked her fingers. “Please. Do this one thing with me.”

Wren sighed and then nodded. “Let me go put some clothes on.”

Thirty minutes later she was in a taxi on the way to the London Eye. She had no idea why tonight, after so many times she had talked about wanting to go, he finally gave in. He was staring out the window, his curled fingers stroking against his bottom lip, and she didn’t feel like asking what had changed his mind. Instead, she watched their linked fingers resting on the fault line of their touching thighs. They were points on two different tectonic plates, and while their motion had brought them into contact for a few peaceful months, she could feel the pressure building that was going to cause another earthquake and tear them apart. They were living on the San Andreas Fault. She let her head rest on Ben’s leather-clad shoulder. Her life had been nothing more than a series of aftershocks to the epic disaster otherwise known as her childhood. Only idiots try and build something permanent on unstable ground; idiots or people who have a fetish for watching what they have built get washed or blown or shaken away. She should have known better than to think this magical interlude could last.

They got out of the taxi, both of them still silent, and joined the queue. Ben wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his chest, and she savored the smell of him. She could smell the faintest whiff of cigarette smoke on him and it made her smile. He was trying so hard to completely quit that she couldn’t hold the one or two a month he had against him. He never smoked in the house anymore. It was so faint she didn’t even think he had smoked today; probably the last time he had worn the jacket he had gone to a bar with someone.

More than his scent she would miss the feel of his arms around her. He was the perfect combination of strength and give, muscle and joint working together to shelter her and hold her and she pulled away from him before her thoughts became any more maudlin. She rubbed her eyes to keep from crying and then slipped her hand into Ben’s for the rest of the wait.

When they finally entered the pod, Ben led her over to a quiet corner. She stood facing out, watching the skyline slowly appear as they lazily lofted into she sky. Ben was snug against her back and she let her head rest back against him as he wrapped his arms around her waist. When they were almost to the top, he whispered, “This is where Annie and I went on our first date.”

Wren stiffened in his arms. His reluctance to take her here made sense now; he was saving this place sacred to her memory.

“Ah,” he breathed in her ear as he squeezed her, “just listen.” He waited until she relaxed again before he continued. “This is where we went on our first date. This is where we were going to get married. This place will always be linked to Annie in my memory, but it’s stupid to think that I can’t make more memories here. There’s no part of my past that wouldn’t be improved by adding you to it. I’m sorry I was such a buffoon about not wanting to come here.”

She cupped his cheek with her hand as she rested her temple against his chin. “Doofus,” she murmured and he chuckled.

“Yes, I’m a doofus.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “But you’re a doofus-lover.”

Wren laughed and pulled him around to her side so she could hug him. They watched London together, arms linked around each other’s waists, and Wren tried to prove her mastery of London landmarks by naming everything she could see. Ben kissed her forehead when she ranked the National Theatre building as just as important as Big Ben and the houses of Parliament.

When they disembarked the giant Ferris wheel, Ben said, “There’s some place else I want to take you, and don’t worry, I never took Annie there.” He hailed a cab, and after signing a few autographs for eagle-eyed fans who had noticed him despite his attempt at anonymity by donning a newsboy cap, he got in the taxi next to Wren. “Hampstead Heath, the Pergola please.”

Wren bit her lips to keep from giggling, but Ben noticed the furtive movement. “What’s so funny, little bird?”

“It just strikes me sometimes that I’m in London. Going to Hampstead Heath. It’s like the most British sounding thing ever. I’m glad I’ll have a chance to go to the Pergola,” Ben could hear the capital letter she bestowed on the word, “before I get kicked out of the country.”

Ben placed his fingers over her lips. “Hush. Let’s not talk about that right now. Just enjoy the evening with me.”

She kissed his fingertips and he slid his hand into her hair and kissed her. Wren sighed softly as she relaxed into his arms. Who knew how many more of these kisses she had to look forward to in the few days they had left before she headed back to Mexico. Getting in trouble with one immigration service would complicate her entire professional career, and now that she was out of a job, she needed to be careful about anything that would make her less likely to get approved for work visas in other countries. She would channel the raging anger she felt into planning for the future tomorrow. She was furious that they had fired her for trying to protect other women, she was furious that it was going to tear her away from Ben, she was furious that her life – the life she had finally let herself have – was crumbling around her, and there was nothing she could do to fix it. They were well within their legal rights to fire her, especially since she was an independent contractor. She knew she had to leave and that Ben couldn’t come with her; his life was here, and with another West End stage performance coming up on his calendar, he was committed to London for the long run.

For right now, she was going to ignore the incandescent rage that threatened to overwhelm her and focused on the feel of Ben’s lips moving against hers. Her hands found their way inexorably into his hair. It was growing out again and barely starting to curl. It had been such a shock to see him with short hair when he had cut it for his last role; she had felt like she was living with a stranger for the first few days afterwards until she got used to it. But the curls were coming back, and she only regretted that she wouldn’t be there to see him get all shaggy again.

The driver ahemed at them and they piled out of the cab like giggly teenagers. Ben shoved a few bills at the driver and then pulled her into the wooded landscape ahead of them. He made his way towards a long pergola-covered walkway. The structure was covered with flowering vines and was a glorious riot of colors and perfume.

Wren was in raptures over everything she saw. “This is beautiful! It’s so old looking. I mean, all of London is old, but this looks wild and overgrown in a way that I haven’t seen since I’ve been here.”

Ben smiled as she stopped to smell all the flowers and run her hands over the twisting vines larger than her arm that worked their way up each of the pillars. Hyacinth were fading and giving room to climbing roses and clematis and other flowers that he didn’t recognize without stopping to read the posted signs. “It is old. And a bit wild and overgrown still, but that’s part of its charm. It survived two world wars and the neglect of people who should have cared for it, but it’s being cared for again and it’s blooming once more.”

Wren spun her way down the middle of the walkway as she tried to decide if Ben was talking about the pergola or her. “This is glorious.” She stopped and laughingly grabbed one of the pillars to steady her as the flowers continued to spin around her. She peered over into the gardens below. “I love this place. There’s a fish pond down there.”

“It’s one of the little lost treasures of the Heath, and even of London. I should have brought you here before.”

“I could live here.” She stroked her fingers over the moss covered stone work as they strolled along the brick pathway.

“You could, you know.” Ben took her hand again now that she seemed content to walk instead of twirl. “Well not  _here_ , but this used to be the gardens of Inverforth House, and it’s been converted into flats.”

“You forget the little fact that I am out of a job and without income and shortly to become a criminal if I stay here.” She tried to make her impending farewell sound comic, but even thinking about it made her grind her teeth. They walked up the stairs to the domed stone gazebo that formed one end of the pergola and Wren found herself drawn to the amazing view of the heath and London in the distance.

“I can’t do anything about the first two,” Ben said from behind her, “but I might be able to help with the last bit.”

Wren turned around in surprise. She’d gone through the immigration website thoroughly and her visa was dependent on an employer verifying her essential status, and then there were only 20,700 of her type of visas issued a year so she would have to wait for the next year’s visas to open up for application before it would take effect. “What do you think you can do?”

He swallowed and took off his cap and turned it in circles as he swallowed again. “Wren, Renata, little bird, you know I love you, right?”

“Yes.” That was one of the few things she was sure of.

“I love you more than I’ve ever loved another person, and the thought of not spending the rest of my life with you is unbearable.” Wren’s eyes widened and she took a hesitant step back as he dropped to one knee in front of her. “Will you marry me?”

He was looking up at her with such hope and expectation and she knew she was a horrible person because she was going to crush him when she said her answer. “No.”

His head jerked back and he rubbed his hand along his thigh as he stared at her. His brows lowered into a heavy line. “No?”

“No.”

Ben regained his feet and stood awkwardly a few feet away from her. He shifted back and forth on his feet as he tried to decide what to do now. “Don’t you love me?”

She closed the distance between them and flung her arms around him, hating the pain she could hear seeping from every syllable. “Of course I love you. I’m a doofus-lover and you’re my doofus. I thought we had already established that.”

He didn’t return the embrace, instead standing stiff in her arms. “Then why won’t you marry me?”

She sighed and stepped back again. How do you explain to the love of your life why you turned down his proposal? “Because I’ll feel like I forced you into marrying me out of a need to rescue me. I refuse to be the damsel in distress in this situation.”

He bit his bottom lip as he looked up at her without lifting his head. “Is that the only reason?”

“Well, yes. But it’s a big reason.”

He took his mobile from his pocket and flipped through a couple of screens. He turned it around to show Wren his calls sent screen. “Do you recognize that number?” He pointed to a longer than normal array of digits.

“That’s Mama.” She looked up at him in confusion. “Why did you call Mama?”

He gazed at her, wanting to see her reaction to his next words. “To ask for her blessing to marry you.”

Her eyes widened like a deer caught in the headlamps. “What?”

“She’s as close to a real parent as you have, and I’m a bit of a traditionalist.”

“You called Mama?” She looked at the date on the call, “You called Mama  _two weeks ago_?”

He nodded, his nose crinkling as he grinned at her. “I even learned Spanish.” He cleared his throat. “Quiero preguntarle a su bendición para que le pregunte a Wren que se casara conmigo.”

Wren covered her mouth with her hand to stifle the laughter. “Well, your accent is horrendous, but I find that I don’t really care about that right now.” Her emotions were spinning erratically like they were on a Ferris wheel of their own and her laughter suddenly gave way to tears rimming her eyes. “What did Mama say?”

“Sí.”

“She did?”

Ben nodded. “I was planning this big thing with flowers and champagne and a fancy hotel and candles, but,” he shrugged, “at least I got the flowers part right.”

Wren’s heart was pounding so hard she was surprised it wasn’t bruising the inside of her ribcage. “So you really want to marry me because you love me?”

He nodded, smile lines creasing the corners of his eyes. “I love you Wren. I don’t ever want to be without you.”

“Ask me again?” Her voice was squeaky but it didn’t matter to either one of them.

“Wren, will–,”

She slapped him on the chest. “No, down on one knee.” She pointed to the stone flooring.

Ben laughed and resumed his position in front of her. “Wren, will you make me happy for the rest of my life and be my bride?”

Even knowing what he was going to ask, she still had to choke back the tears. She nodded repeatedly before she could get out her answer. “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

He wrapped his arms around her legs and held her tightly to him and Wren ran her hands gently over his hair. She realized as he clung to her how much she meant to him, that the thought of her leaving had shook him so badly that he was reduced to this childlike need to hold on to his source of happiness. Eventually he stood and kissed her. His hands splayed across the back of her head, holding her as he memorized every detail of this scene, the darkening sky turning London into a city of fairylights beyond the heath stretched out like a crazy quilt of forest and field, seamed together with paths and roads and appliquéd with lakes and ponds. The smell of the flowers decking the pergola floated in the air as they kissed, and her mouth was warm and soft and his. He let go of a deep shuddering breath as he finally pulled back enough to look her in the eyes. “I love you, Wren. I mean that more than I’ve ever meant anything. I will always love you, and I will never leave you, and we will be happy.”

Wren blinked back more tears as she reached up and delicately brushed away the ones clinging to his eyelashes. “I love you, Benedict. You have turned my world upside down, but I find that I like it all topsy-turvy like this. This is my world with you in it, and I never want it any other way.”

When he stopped kissing her the next time, he reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a small blue velvet box. He opened it and her breath caught as she saw the diamond ring inside. “It was my grandmother’s. I know you wouldn’t want me to buy a ring when I could have used the money to feed children in Africa, so I am giving you this. I know you don’t have a lot of connections to your family. This is a sign that I’ll make sure that changes when we have children of our own. My grandparents were in love their entire life. And someday, when this gets handed down to our grandchildren, they’ll say the same thing about us.”


	21. Chapter Twenty

Wren lay in bed, slowly shifting her fingers back and forth, watching the diamond catch even the smallest amount of light and throw back sparkles. The only light on in their bedroom was the lamp on Ben’s nightstand and as she turned towards him to bring her ring closer to the light, she saw him watching her with a smile. Blushing, she put her hand under the blanket.

“That’s alright, love. You can keep playing with it.”

Wren looked up at him. “I don’t want you to think I’m more in love with the ring than I am with you.”

Ben put down his book and laid down, turning on his side so his face was just inches from hers. “I know you’re not. It’s kind of nice actually, to see you enjoy a present without feeling guilty about it.”

She bit at her lip. “It’s not just the ring though, it’s what it represents. It’s your grandmother’s. You don’t give your grandmother’s wedding ring to just anybody.”

He traced the contours of her face, brushing her long hair back and away from her cheeks. “You’re right, I don’t. I give it to you.”

She stared at him with wide blue eyes for a while and he waited to find out if his soul was heavier than a feather. “You really love me.”

The balances swung in his favor. “Yes, I do.”

A smile started to spread across her face, growing large enough that her elusive dimple made an appearance. “You’re going to marry me.”

He touched the indentation in her cheek, wondering how he could keep it always present. “Yes, I am.”

It faded and he saw worry lines crease her brow. “You’re not worried that we’re rushing into things?”

“When you know, you know. And I know.” He smoothed away the marks with his thumb.

“I know too. I’m still scared. There’s still times where I panic, where I wake up thinking that today will be the day it all falls apart, but if you trust me enough–,”

Ben kissed her to silence then. To silence and beyond, where she was clinging to him, moaning softly and then louder, the sounds morphing from gentle noises of passion to harder cries, gasps for breath, pleading groans with each thrust into her damp heat until his mouth closed over hers again, his hands pushing underneath her and holding her even closer as she wrapped her arms and legs around him, her hands on his head, and they moved together, silent except for the sounds of whispered ‘I love you’s’ and the movement of their hips meeting over and over until they were both coming, and she cried his name, and he answered with hers.

***

Wren sat on the arm of Ben’s chair as she ran her fingers across his neck and into his hair and listened to the chatter. Annie and Tom, Martin and Amanda, Lou and her husband David, Jane and Eliza, Matt, and Jonny and Michele, all of them with drinks in hand, were working on the trays of charcuterie and antipasti that they had put out. Ben’s fingers idly stroked up and down her thigh as he chatted with Tom. Though the setting was very different, it reminded her of Mama’s living room, filled with family and friends talking over each other and eating everything in sight. It felt like home.

Ben cleared his throat and said, “So, thank you all for coming over with just a few hours notice. There’s something I,” he looked up at Wren and smiled, “ _we_  want to share with you.”

Wren smiled as every girl’s eyes fell to her left hand to check. She had taken the ring off before anyone came over so Ben could make the big announcement. “Wren and I are getting married.” The room erupted in squeals and shouts. Wren got pulled to her feet for hugs and kisses, and Ben received the same treatment. When the initial hubbub had subsided, Ben added, “In ten days.”

The noise faded to silence as they watched the initial joyous expressions on their friends’ faces turn to various expressions of concern and surprise. Wren instinctively sought out Ben’s hand, and he slipped his arm around her shoulders so he was sheltering her within his arm. “I was planning on proposing anyway, but Wren got fired yesterday and she’ll lose her work visa so that just moved up the time table a bit.”

Jane and Eliza were both shocked. “You got fired?”

“Listen, mate,” Jonny said over the confused and angry outbursts, “I think you two should just spill the whole story at once so we know what’s going on. We’re all happy for you two, but I think we’re all just a bit shocked at the pace, you know.

Ben reclaimed his seat and when Wren tried to sit on the arm of the chair, he pulled her onto his lap. They’d been living together for months now, but becoming engaged had added a new level of intimacy to their life together. For the last day, they found it impossible to be together without touching. He would kiss her on the shoulder as he passed, and she would stroke his hair whenever he was in reach. Smiles were permanently etched on both of their faces, smiles that only deepened when they looked at each other. The two of them told the story, finishing each others’ sentences and interjecting little details to give both perspectives on what had happened over the last three months. From the arrest through Wren getting warnings at work, Ben realizing that he wanted to marry Wren –

“When did you realize you wanted to marry her?” Jonny asked.

Wren turned to Ben. “Yeah, when  _did_  you realize you wanted to marry me?”

He grinned at her and she fell in love with him all over as the laugh lines emphasized the beauty of his eyes. “It was that Saturday we rode motorcycles up the skydiving site and you jumped with me for the first time. You let me be your tandem, and it was a perfect metaphor for what you’ve been doing with me for the last nine months. Then we went to the theatre that night and you cried over the play. And then we came home and had… well, yes.” Wren was close enough she could see the faintest blush tinge his cheeks. “As you fell asleep that night in my arms, I knew there wasn’t a person alive I would rather spend time with. You’re my partner and my best friend and you inspire me to be better than I am. And you’re gorgeous and sexy and I love you. So I called Mama the next day and asked for permission.”

Wren smiled. “I actually turned him down when he asked because I thought he was doing it just to keep me from leaving.” Even though she was talking to everyone else, she was still gazing at Ben. “And then he showed me the hour long phone call on his mobile from two weeks earlier, and I knew he really did want to marry me.”

“So, where did he propose?” Lou asked.

“At the Pergola and…” she looked at Ben, unable to remember the full name.

“The Hill Garden,” Ben finished. “At Hampstead Heath.”

She smiled at him, finding herself leaning into him. “It was gorgeous and perfect.” Ben kissed her softly.

“Where  _were_  you going to propose?” David asked.

Ben rubbed his thigh as he chuckled. “I hadn’t decided. I had thought about putting the ring inside a KinderEgg, but I wasn’t sure how to recoat it with chocolate and get it to look right. So I was going to do the fancy dinner and a nice hotel room, but that seemed a bit clichéd to me, and I was still trying to come up with something original when Wren came home in a rage and started packing.”

Wren laughed. “I told him I was getting deported and his precise words were ‘Fuck that.’”

Martin nodded decisively. “Good man.”

“So, what kind of wedding are you having?”

“I think we’re just going to go to city hall or whatever you call it here and have the judge or clerk or whoever do it,” Wren answered.

“Uh, no.” Lou said.

“No?”

Lou shook her head and slapped her drink down on the table next to her chair, sloshing the liquid over the rim of the glass. “Honey, you’re getting married once in your life. Even on a fast schedule, you can do something more, unless that’s really what you want?”

Wren looked to Ben who was watching her curiously. He had tried to convince her they could do something fun, but she had insisted she didn’t want to bother anyone on such short notice. “I would like to get married in a church.” Ben sat back into the corner of the chair and watched her finally confess what she really wanted. He had hoped that confronted with the enthusiasm of her friends, she might realize she wasn’t inconveniencing anyone. “Not that I’m particularly religious, I just want to walk down the aisle.” She turned back to Lou. “But it’s not like either of us really go to church here so we don’t have a minister or anything.”

“I’m an ordained minister,” Jane said.

“What?”

“Yes. I’m not the main pastor at our church, but I can perform weddings, and our chapel is an old Catholic church they sold off when they were closing parishes. Big center aisle, stained glass; you’ll feel like Maria in  _Sound of Music._  Sans the nuns. Though I know some guys I can get to dress up in nuns habits for you if you want. They’d probably even sing “How Do You Solve a Problem like Maria?” if you ask nice.”

Ben choked on his whiskey as Wren laughed. “No, I don’t need nuns, but that sounds perfect.”

Eliza set her glass down. “Okay, where’s some paper – we need to take notes.”

Wren’s forehead creased in confusion. “For what?”

“We’re going to plan your wedding. Ten days, you’re going to need some help, ya? We’re family. We’ve got this.”

Wren stood up and went to the desk to get a notepad, but also to hide the tears welling in her eyes. While she was there, she retrieved her ring from one of the cubbies and slipped it on. She handed the notepad and pen to Eliza who saw the ring and grabbed her hand. “Lady, this is gorgeous. Is it vintage?”

“It was Ben’s grandmother’s.”

Once everyone had admired the ring, Wren reclaimed her perch on the arm of Ben’s chair, but he pulled her down into his lap and wrapped his arms around her waist. She rested her head on his shoulder, wondering when in the last nine months this had become her favorite place in the world. As much as she loved being out in jungles and deserts and tiny villages all over the globe, these few meters of flesh were home now.

“Alright then,” Eliza said, “we’ve sorted the venue and the minister. Now, for the reception, what do you want?”

Ben looked to Wren. “Dancing?”

“And dinner. Get married around five and then dinner and dancing afterwards?”

“It’s going to be difficult to book a caterer at this short date,” Amanda warned.

“What about a restaurant?” Jane asked.

“Most fancy restaurants are dark on Mondays. Maybe, given the right incentive, we could convince them to open up for us,” Michelle added. Wren hid her face against Ben’s throat for a moment. She didn’t think fate would be so kind as to provide her twice with a new family to replace the one who hadn’t wanted her, but sitting here in Ben’s arms, she knew that she was with a new family that would love her like Mama and Rosa did.

Martin popped up. “Leave it to me. I have a few places in mind that have excellent food and dance floors. Do you want a DJ or a live band?”

Ben and Wren looked at each other. “Either?” Ben laughed and nodded, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he bit his lip. “Either works.”

“Alright, I’ll put Martin in charge of booking someplace for the reception and music. He’ll need a headcount from you two fairly quickly though. That’s your responsibility for tomorrow – number of people who are coming.” Eliza pointed her pen at Ben and Wren. Wren could see why Jane and Eliza made such a good couple. Jane was all ideas and inspiration, and Eliza made sure it got translated into reality.

“I don’t think it will be very large. My family won’t be coming,” she looked at Ben, “so I’ll be creating a new one that day.”

“Mama will be here,” Ben corrected her.

“What?”

“When I talked to her today after you were done, I convinced her to let me fly her and Rosa and Eddie and the rest of them that I can’t keep names straight yet out for the ceremony, and that’s when I thought it was going to be just a civil marriage. There’s no way I would let them missing you walk down an aisle.”

Wren’s chin dropped. “They’re all going to be there?”

“Of course. Your family, your  _real_ family, will be there with you. If it wasn’t for Mama smacking some sense into you, you never would have agreed to date me in the first place.” Ben smiled as the dimple appeared again.

Wren gave him an enthusiastic kiss. “I love you, Benedict Timothy Carlton Cumberbatch,” she whispered.

 “Then, what’s next?” Eliza asked.

“Cake. And flowers.” Michelle answered.

Annie bounced in her seat and Tom grabbed her drink to keep it from spilling. “Oh, I know a fantastic bakery. They do the most amazing wedding cakes. They did the one at James and Thea’s wedding.” She nudged Tom. “Do you remember that cake?”

“Was that the one with the coconut cake with the lime filling?” Annie nodded. “Oh, it was divine. They did different flavors in the different layers. I had four pieces of cake so I could try each one.”

“Annie will take you two cake shopping then,” Eliza said. “Flowers – who wants to help with flowers?

“My girlfriend is a florist,” Matt offered bashfully.

“You have a girlfriend?” Ben asked, his nose crinkling in surprise. “Since when?”

“We’ve been seeing each other about three months now.” Matt shoved his long hair back out of his face. “She’s actually doing a wedding this evening which is why she isn’t here.”

“Why haven’t I heard about her?” Ben asked.

Matt laughed. “I think we’ve both been wrapped up in our new loves.”

“So when do we get to meet her?” Wren asked.

Matt pulled awkwardly at the collar of his faded tee, even though it was stretched out already. “Well, if you have her do the flowers, she’ll be at the wedding. If she’s not doing the flowers, she’ll still be at the wedding.” He laughed. “Assuming of course, that I’m invited and get to bring a guest.”

“Of course you are,” Ben and Wren answered in unison.

“Just warning you that she won’t let me near any of the flowers if you’re expecting me to help port things about. That’s really how I met. I knocked over one of those big pedestal things that had flowers on it and I tried to help fix it and she made me go stand in the corner and promise not to touch things until she got it all sorted.” Wren desperately tried not to laugh, but everyone else was chuckling at Matt’s well known tendency to knock things over, fall off of stuff, and run into stationary objects with no provocation. At least he had finally turned this predilection to his good.

“Then what do we have left?” Michelle asked.

“The dress.” Eliza answered.

“Oh yes. When are you going dress shopping?”Annie asked.

“I was just going to wear something I already own. I’ve manage to acquire quite a few fancy dre–,”

She was cut off by a chorus of no’s from the women in the room. “Not for your wedding, darling. I’m taking you dress shopping tomorrow,” Lou insisted. The other women all awwwed in disappointment at not getting to go and Lou invited them along as well. They all started chattering about which bridal shops would be the most accommodating and how much time they would need, and how long of a train do you want?

Ben chuckled at the hubbub of activity and the strongly held opinions about sleeves versus no sleeves. Who knew it was such a controversial topic? “If you all are going out together, please, no getting arrested this time.”

Wren laughed and slapped him lightly on the chest. “Fine. If I’m going to go buy a new dress, you’re getting a new suit. Grey. With an e. Because you’re British.”

Jonny spoke up. “I’ll take him suit shopping. He’ll need some supervision so he doesn’t buy something horrendous.”

“I am perfectly capable of dressing myself.”

This pronouncement was greeted with uproarious laughter by everyone assembled. “You can wear whatever socks you want darling, but Jonny gets veto over the suit.” She turned to Jonny. “Just take him to that Stuart Spencer Ross…” She turned to Ben. “You know who I’m talking about right? The one you modeled for.”

“Spencer Hart,” he answered, shooting a quelling glance at Tom who was twitting him over being a model.

“Just go there.” She leaned in and whispered in his ear. “Maybe get you some new jammies for the wedding night while you’re at it.”

He bit his lip and grinned before wrapping his hand around the back of her neck, tilting her head so he could whisper in return. “I’m not planning on wearing jammies on my wedding night, darling.”

 


	22. Chapter Twenty one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Maybe I am too emotionally invested in this wedding, but I’ve linked the music being played into the story so you can listen to it. With both “Somewhere” and “Canon,” these are very particular arrangements. When you play “Canon" the parents walk to the first minute, Wren walks to the second minute, and then it would stop. Feel free to listen to the rest of it, it’s great, but that’s all that would play during the ceremony. I know, I’ve over thought this. I just want Ben to be happy, dagnabbit.
> 
> Warnings for sap and fluff.

 

Ben fiddled with the French cuffs on his shirt as he stood at the front of the church in his new grey Johnny-approved suit. Martin had found a string quartet at short notice and they were playing Bach’s “[Brandenburg Concerto](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=magXCRLGhPc).” It was a surprisingly traditional choice he thought. He’s been caught up in last minute rehearsals and the opening night of his play so Wren had made almost all of the decisions concerning their wedding. He had simply been told to show up on time and remember the wedding ring, both of which he had done. He looked over the congregation of his friends and family who had joined them on such short notice, smiling as he saw everyone wearing flowers. That was one of Wren’s ideas – instead of choosing a small group of people as groomsmen and bridesmaids, she had decided everyone should be honored. Women had wreaths in their hair, large single blossoms pinned to their lapels or carried small bouquets. The men had mostly gone for boutonnieres, though there were a few that had tucked posies into their hair as well. Matt was wearing a wreath.

The music shifted and Ben turned around to look at the quartet, wondering when they had added a ukulele only to discover it was the second violinist playing his instrument like a guitar. Ben grinned. This seemed more like his Wren. Ben recognized the melody being played, “[Somewhere over the Rainbow](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jImVRD2NEfY).” It was an appropriate choice with a rainbow of flowers filling the chapel and his dreams coming true.

The doors to the chapel closed as the song merged into Pachabel’s “[Canon in D](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yflWG-e38OU).” His parents and Mama preceded down the aisle, his mother with the biggest smile he had ever seen on her face, bigger even than the night he won his first Oscar. And then he saw Wren and everything else faded away as the traditional soaring strings of the Canon transformed into a more Latin flavored arrangement. She was walking herself down the aisle, dressed in a gorgeous white gown that reminded him of the dresses he had seen on the dancers in Mexico and carrying a rainbow of flowers in her hands. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life. Just like she had danced with Tom and Annie’s baby rather than simply swayed in place, she was almost dancing rather than walking. His cheeks ached from smiling as he watched her. The little brown bird had transformed into a glorious bird of paradise and she glowed with her happiness. She may have been able to hide in the past, but today she was the center of everyone’s attention.

When she had made it almost all the way to the front, Ben walked down to her, unable to wait any longer, and she slipped her hand in his and he danced with her the last final few steps up to where Jane was waiting, the white silk of her stole standing out in contrast to her ebony skin.

“Brothers and sisters, we are here today to witness the marriage of Benedict and Renata and to celebrate the creation of a new family. Not just the family that Ben and Wren make together, but the family that we all make as we come together. Now, we have a big church and a small wedding, so I’m going to do something a bit unorthodox. I’m going to ask all of you to come up here. That’s right, all of you sitting down there are going to come up here, and we’re going to form a circle around these two. That’s right, don’t be shy. Come on up, you can even hold hands with each other if you like.”

She waited until everyone was circled around the three of them.

“Now, I know you didn’t want a big to do for your wedding Wren because you thought you were going to inconvenience people. I want you to look around and see if any of these people look inconvenienced.”

Wren turned in a full circle, meeting eyes with everyone who had come. She was surrounded by the smiling faces of people who cared about her, many of whom and turned a hand to helping with the wedding with great enthusiasm. By the time she was facing Ben again, her heart felt fuller than it ever had before and lighter as well.

“We love you, and even if we didn’t, we would love you because Ben loves you. But honestly, I think we all love Ben more because he has the good sense to love you.”

A ripple of laughter surrounded them.

“Now, Benedict, you look at this woman. You are one lucky man because you have found one of the gentlest spirits God has put on this earth, masquerading as a tough warrior. She can and will fight for what she believes in as long as she has to, but you are the lucky one because with you, she can be her sweet loving self. She will bring home stray kittens and strangers from the tube and teenagers who need a hug and a home, and she will give you opportunities to love, and that’s going to make you an even better person that you already are. You two have so much love for each other, and it’s made you both better people, and you’re going to make everyone you come in contact with better because of it.”

Ben knew she was speaking the truth, even as the words passed over him almost unheeded. He was transfixed by Wren’s smile, the dimple in her cheek in all its glory as she looked at him. He had a feeling she was paying almost as much attention to Jane as he was.

“Now. Wren, you tell him you love him.”

Wren grinned at her friend. She had given Jane full leeway to arrange the ceremony, so she had no idea what was going to happen next. She turned to Ben, who was wavering between smiling and crying. “I love you, Benedict.” She turned back to Jane.

“Is that all you have to say?”

“Oh, am I supposed to say something else?”

Jane laughed. “Darling, it’s your wedding. You can say whatever you like.”

“Um, I wasn’t expecting to do this; I was expecting the whole love and honor thing. Um, Benedict, Ben, my Ben, Fate gave me a second chance at life with you. And when I messed it up, she gave me a third. And you’ve given me a fourth and a fifth and I know you’ll keep giving me as many chances as I need to get it right, to get  _us_  right.” She wiped at the tears forming in her eyes, and three hands reached forward with handkerchiefs, all monogrammed. She laughed as she took one. “That’s the most British thing I’ve ever seen.” She dabbed carefully at her eyes, not wanting to mess the mascara Amanda and Lou had so painstakingly applied before she looked at Ben again.

“You are the most patient, long-suffering, stubborn man, and I need that, and I need you. Not a lot of people are as lucky as I am and I will forever be grateful for the day we met and you braved the chaos of my life and decided you wanted a bit of that chaos for your own. You are my rock and my shield and my hope, and I love you with all of my heart.”

Jane turned to Ben whose eyes were full of tears and gestured to him. “Now you tell her you love her.”

Ben chuckled and bit his bottom lip. “I feel like I should recite a poem or something, but for all the glorious love poetry out there, none of it even comes close to describing the love that I have for you. The first day I met you felt like something out of a dream, bedazzled by a blue-haired pixie,” his nose crinkled as he grinned, “that led me through a cave and danced with me in the dark in a tropical city, and let me fall apart and started putting me back together again. You told me then that I was the superhero and you were the sidekick but you are my hero. You’re the bravest person I know. You have seen so much suffering and yet you still love with an open heart. I am the happiest man on earth right now, and yet I know that tomorrow I will be happier, and the day after that I will be happier still because I have you in my life.”

Wren dabbed at her tears again, and then reached across the small distance separating her from her soon-to-be-husband and dried his as well.

“Now, I’ve performed a lot of marriages, and I’ve seen unity candles and sand jars and all sorts of things, but Ben and Wren have decided to do this a little differently. They’ve written letters to each other, and they’re going to put them in this wooden box behind me along with this bottle of wine and then screw it shut. They originally were going to nail it shut, but Wren was worried Ben would hurt himself and she’d rather his fingers not be hurting for later tonight.”

Ben blushed pink, Wren blushed red, and everyone in the circle around them laughed.

“Then, when they have their first fight, they can open the box, drink the wine, read the letters, and remember why they chose each other in the first place.

As they placed the objects in the box, Tom stood in the old pulpit and started serenading them with “[The Wedding Song](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3IrCeP5slxw),” accompanying himself on the guitar. Ben wondered how much time he had spent learning the music over the last week. This entire wedding was the effort of his friends and family and he was overwhelmed again at how much his life had turned around since he had met Wren. She had given him the courage to open up and love again at least as much as he had done so for her. He cupped her face in both hands and kissed her through the teasing of their friends that he wasn’t supposed to do that yet. Wren didn’t seem to mind, kissing him happily in return.

“I like your earrings,” he whispered, brushing a finger against the yellow and pink diamonds dangling from her ears.

“They’re fake,” she whispered back with a grin.

“I know, but they’re still pretty. Not nearly as pretty as you, though.”

She crinkled her nose at him and picked up the final screw and held it in place, grateful that she had the foresight to pre-drill all the holes. He twisted it into place and set the screwdriver down on the table and took her hand and kissed her again.

“I hope I never read your letter.”

His eyes narrowed for a second until he realized what she meant. “I hope I never read yours either.”

When they took their places again, Jane said, “Now, you have memorized your vows. Ben, these are the most important lines of dialog you’ll ever deliver, so I hope you got them right. We’re going to let Wren go first though, because I think she’s a bit more nervous than you are.”

Wren took Ben’s hands. “Benedict, Ben, today I choose you as my husband. Together we will create a family and a life and a home. I promise to love you above all others, to support you through your trials and successes, to trust in your goodness, and to spend the rest of our lives together, forsaking all others.”

“Renata, my little bird, today I choose you as my wife. I will be your home, and you will be mine. I promise to love you with all my heart, to support you in whatever you do, to trust in your love for me, and to hope in our future together. I will not always be perfect, but I promise I will do my best to be the man you deserve. I love you, and I will never forsake you for as long as we live.”

Jane smiled. “And now for the rings.” She held out her hand and they both took the rings from her. Wren had been terrified she would lose Ben’s and he had worried about forgetting hers. Ben slipped the simple eternity band of diamonds onto her finger.

“With this ring, I thee wed.”

She slid the ring onto his finger, hammered platinum. “With this ring, I thee wed.”

“You may kiss–,” Ben pulled Wren into his arms and kissed her. Wren squeaked in surprise at the unexpected movement, but her hands closed around the lapels on his suit jacket as she leaned into the kiss.

“– your bride,” Jane finished, anticlimactically. There was a general round of applause and cheering and when had finished and Ben still hadn’t stopped kissing Wren, Martin called out, “Alright, let her up for air, Ben.”

Ben reluctantly pulled back from his wife, but Wren refused to let go of his coat, and he kissed her softly on her forehead, lingering there with his eyes closed. He could smell her perfume and gentle aroma added to this perfect moment that he wanted to preserve forever.

“Family, we are going to ask you to exit now, and we’ll leave the happy couple here for a moment of reflection before they join you outside.”

Ben didn’t bother opening his eyes and neither did Wren as the musicians[started playing](http://youtu.be/S-RHzlB2xHE?t=1m5s). They heard the rustle as people left, and people patted them on the shoulders as they walked by. In the back of his mind, Ben knew the photographer was probably still in the chapel taking shots of the two of them together, but it felt like it was just him and his wife –  _his wife! –_ as the music came to an end, and he heard the musicians leave.

“We’re married,” Wren whispered.

“You’re my wife.”

“You’re my husband.” She giggled. “I have a husband.”

Ben’s chuckle was soft against her cheek. “You have a husband.”

She smiled up at him, her dimple giving her a puckish air. “I think I have to stay now because I definitely can’t just stick you in a box.”

“No, you can’t.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested against his shoulder. “It’s a good thing I don’t want to go anywhere.”

“Well, you can still go places. You just have to take me with you.” He kissed her on top of her head. “We can knock some more of those countries off of your list.”

“There’s a lot of countries still on my list.”

“Then it’s a good thing we have the rest of our lives.”


	23. Chapter Twenty two

_[previous](http://notsomolly.tumblr.com/post/64396297450/back-to-best-chapter-twenty-one) _

_A/N NSFW for wedding night shenaniganery_

Wren snuggled into Ben’s chest as the doors of the lift closed behind them. She giggled as he kissed her ear and she started undoing the buttons on his shirt. “I think you forgot your tie at the restaurant,” she told his pectoral as she pulled open the fabric and licked his sternum.

Ben laughed as she bit his chest. “Did you not get enough to eat at dinner, dearest wife of mine?”

“You’re dessert. Cake is fine and all, but I want some…” She dissolved in giggles again. “I was trying to make your name into a dessert, but all I could think was Cumberbatch pudding and that sounds naughty.”

He trailed his fingers down her spine, left bare by the low back of her wedding dress and she started laughing. “That tickles!”

Ben’s cheeks ached from all the smiling he had done that day but he found himself grinning again. “How much champagne did you drink tonight, darling?”

“Enough to make my blood feel like its fizzing in my veins. Little fizzy bubbles of happiness.” She giggled again and the lift doors opened. “Ding!” she echoed, and giggled again.

“Okay, little bird,” Ben picked her up, “time to put you to bed.” He carried her to the door of the suite, keyed open the lock, and stepped over the threshold with her in his arms.

“Are you coming to bed with me, oh lovely husband?” She slid her hand inside the open collar of his shirt.

“Absolutely.” He kissed her softly and put her down on her feet, making sure she was stable before he let her go. Apparently she had no head for champagne at all. Someone at the reception had asked her if she knew what she was going to do with her time now and she had said, “Sew little coordinating outfits for Ben’s Oscars.” She had started naming off the outfits, “Formal wear, swimming trunks, Sherlock’s coat and Watson’s jumper, though that will require teeny tiny knitting needles,” before she had gotten the giggles so hard she couldn’t keep talking. Even tipsy she had been amazing on the dance floor. Martin had found an amazing band and Ben kept cutting in on whoever Wren was dancing with to take her back into his arms.

He followed her into the living room of the suite where she flopped down on the sofa and held up one leg. “Will you take off my shoe?”

“Yes, my Cinderella.”

She giggled. “I think that’s backwards.” He sat on the coffee table and took her foot in his lap, carefully undoing the sparkling buckle before he slipped the strappy heel off and set it on the floor. He massaged her foot, his thumb working along the high arch as she moaned in relief. “Oooooo, that feels soooo gooooood.”

He arched one eyebrow at her in a leer. “And I’m only touching your foot.” She stuck her tongue out at him and held out her other foot.

“Do this one too.”

He undid the other buckle and took off her sandal, setting it beside the first. He slid his hands up the outside of her calves, under the long white skirt.

She sank back into the pile of pillows on the sofa. “Are you getting handsy already?”

“I do believe I am. Of course, I got a little handsy on the dance floor.”

“You did. But I think it’s expected for the groom to let his hands slip below the small of her back when they are dancing together.”

His hands slid higher, long fingers spread wide as he stroked her skin, teasing the back of her knees and starting to slide up her thighs when he stopped. His fingers played over the impediment they had encountered. “Are you wearing a garter?”

Wren bit her bottom lip as she smiled and nodded. Ben gathered her skirt in his hands and pulled it up, revealing bare legs until a band of what looked like Celtic knotwork made entirely out of crystals or diamonds or rhinestones, he wasn’t entirely sure, came into view, sparkling in the light. He traced his finger over the garter, a smile spreading across his face. “I didn’t know you had this on.”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes.” He let out a little huff of a laugh. “Very much so.”

“You  _like it_  like it.”

Ben laughed, his nose crinkling. “You are very insightful, wife.” He moved so he was sitting next to her on the sofa. “Come here, love.” He patted his lap.

Wren gathered up her skirt and crawled over so she was straddling his thighs.

“Well, that’s not quite what I had in mind, but this will work.” He slid his hand up under the silk until it rested over the garter on her thigh.

Wren leaned forward and brushed a kiss softly against his cheekbone. “What is it you like so much about the garter?”

He massaged her thigh as he feathered a kiss across her jaw. “You wore it just for me. It’s secret. No one else knows about it except for me and you.”

“Do you like it when I wear things just for you?”

“Yes. It means you’re thinking about me every second of the day, every time you feel it rub against your skin.”

“Oh.” His other hand slid further up her thigh until it was cupping the curve of her rear. “I’m starting to see the appeal of lingerie for the first time.” His fingers slid under the lace and he kneaded the soft flesh.

“I think I need to see you in this lingerie.” His hands came out from under her skirt long enough to undo the buttons down the back of her dress while his mouth explored her throat. She sighed in disappointment when he sat back to remove the dress, but the feel of the smooth silk slipping over her body sent a shiver down her spine. Ben dropped her dress on the sofa next to them and sat back to appreciate the sight before him. His wife –  _his wife_ – straddled his lap wearing nothing but a garter and a pair of delicate white lace knickers. And a wedding ring.

Wren watched tears well up in his eyes and leaned forward, resting her forehead against his, clasping his face in her hands. “Why these tears, my love?”

He placed kisses in both of her palms before he answered. “I can’t believe you’re my wife.”

She kissed him before she said, “I can’t believe I’m a wife, much less your wife. But I am.” She waggled her ring finger at him. “I’m your wife. It’s crazy, but I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you, my Benedict.”

“Well, that’s perfectly alright since I have never loved anyone the way I love you either.”

Her breath sounded shaky. “Really?” Her eyes flickered over his face.

“Really. You may be my little bird, but I am your nest, and my life was empty without you.”

Wren kissed him before the threatening tears could fall and his arms wrapped around her, holding her tight, one large hand cupping the back of her head while the other one settled over the garter, his thumb rubbing against the elaborate design. She undid the buttons on his shirt and pulled it from his trousers so she could rest against him, skin against skin and he could taste the champagne and strawberries on her tongue as he pulled her closer. The air around them heated as they kissed, coming apart and back together, chests starting to heave as they teased each other, almost but not quite brushing lips against each other, noses touching, tongues darting out to taste each other. Ben cupped one of Wren’s breasts in his hand, his thumb circling the nipple and she bit his bottom lip, sinking her teeth into the full curve and pulling. When she let go of it Ben nudged her chin up and he started kissing down her throat. Wren fumbled with the cuff link on his shirt, managing to get it undone as he continued to tease her nipple with his fingers, bringing it to a hardened peak before he bent his mouth to it.

“Ben,” she moaned before she fumbled for his other hand. She undid the cufflink on it as well and then started shoving his shirt and jacket from his shoulders and down his arms. His skin was warm under her hands and she ran her nails along the lines of his biceps. He was at his biggest build since they had been together and she couldn’t get enough of the way his body moved under her hands. He let go of her long enough to finish stripping off his shirt since it was constraining his arms and it joined her wedding dress in the pile of discarded finery.

Both his hands fell to her bum, kneading them as he set her to grinding against him. He groaned as her fingers dug into the muscles of his back. He could feel himself stiffening against her damp heat and he held her firmly in place as he pushed up against her. Her head fell back and he nipped at her neck, kissing his way down across her collar bone before biting into the curve of her shoulder. He needed to feel her, taste her, devour her to believe that she was really his. After all the hiccups along the way, after all of her fears and all of his years of living without a heart, this was his reality now, holding the woman he loved in his arms, married, happy – no, not happy. Overjoyed. He brought her mouth to his again wanting to share his breath with the woman who gave him the reason to keep breathing.

Her arms twined around his neck and he picked her up, carrying his bride into the bedroom and placing her gently on the bed. She sank into the pillowy blankets and she sat up on her elbows as she watched him undressing. He stripped himself of his trousers and pants as he toed off his shoes and climbed on the bed with his wife, covering her with his body, pressing her into the bed.

He ran his hands over her hair, playing with the strands that had escaped from her hairdo. “I love you so much, sugar.”

She smiled. “You haven’t called me sugar in a while.”

“I don’t know why I stopped. You just get sweeter by the minute.”

She laughed and kissed him. “You are the sweet one. And the handsome one. And the sexy one.”

“You think I’m sexy?”

“Very much so.” She loosely wrapped her leg around his thigh and his hand stroked down her side, sliding over her hip to come to a rest over the garter.

His voice was a low rumble. “I want to make love to you now.”

“Good, because that’s what I want too.” He sat back long enough to pull her knickers down her legs and tossed them over his shoulder which made Wren start to laugh.

She held up her arms to him. “Come here, my love.”

Ben went to her, holding his weight on his elbows as she cradled him between her thighs. He bent his mouth to her breast, laving the nipple with the flat of his tongue before he sucked it into his mouth. She arched up against him and her nails scraped against his scalp and then she lifted her hips, grinding against his stiffening flesh. His groan rumbled in his chest and vibrated through her breast. Ben began to rub against her, feeling her wetness coating him as she rocked her hips up against him, prolonging the contact between their most intimate places. She started whimpering, her nails digging into his shoulders as he rubbed against her clit, teasing her with the long slow glide of his cock against it. She canted her hips, trying to get him to press inside her. “Please, Ben,” she whined, squirming under him, “please baby, take me now. Don’t make me wait.”

He groaned and shifted his hips so he was lined up against her and then slowly sheathed himself in her welcoming heat. Her head fell back as she moaned an octave higher than the answering groan deep in Ben’s chest. “God, sugar, you feel so good.” She wrapped her legs around him and his hand covered the garter as he started to move. There was no hurry for them as they were wrapped around each other and their mouths whispered the treasures of their hearts to each other as her hips lifted and he thrust and her hands clutched at his back as his tangled in her hair.

A tremor rippled through her thighs and Ben pushed harder and slipped a hand between their bodies to stroke her clit. She bit her bottom lip with he touched it and as he started to circle it with his middle finger, her nails dug into his shoulders. He relished the sharp sting of pain as her breath shattered. Her heels dug harder into his arse as she lifted her hips from the bed, rolling her hips against his hand, setting them circling against his finger, keeping it right where she wanted it. Her eyes clenched shut as she cried his name, once, twice, and again as her stomach went rigid and every muscle in her body tensed. Her pussy clamped around his cock and the rhythmic pulsing combined with the sweet ecstasy on his wife’s face released all the tension that had been building in his body in an explosive blast of pleasure as he came, hot and deep within her.

As they lay cuddled together, the blanket pulled up over them, Wren smiled against Ben’s shoulder. “I think sex is better when you’re married.”

“I think you might be right.” He pulled her over so she was straddling his waist. “But let’s try again just to make sure.”


	24. Epilogue

 


End file.
